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SOCIETY IN LONDON 



'«fe. 



BY 



A FOREIGN RESIDENT. 




NEW YORK: 
GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER 

17 TO 27 Vandbwatbr Street. 



TO f 

THE ENGLISHMEN AND ^ii WOMEN, 

OF WHOM LONDON SOCIETY CONSISTS, 

THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS INSCRIBED, 

BY 

A FOREIGN RESIDENT, 

WHO HAS ENJOYED MUCH INTERCOURSE WITH THEM, 

WHO IS UNDER MANY OBLIGATIONS TO THEM, 

FOR HOSPITALITY AND KINDNESS, 

AND WHO, 

WHILE DEEPLY APPRECIATING ALL THEIR VIRTUES, 

HOPES THAT HE WILL BE FORGIVEN IF HE HAS, 

IN THE FOLLOWING PAGES, 

POINTED OUT ANY OF THEIR FOLLIES 

OR RALLIED THEM ON ANY OF THEIR FAILINGS. 



.^'^ 



3?^ ^ 



SOCIETY IN LONDON, 



La pliipart des lois se contrarient si visiblement, quMl importe assez pen par 
quelk's lois uii t''tat se pouverne; mais, ce qui importe beaucoup, c'est que les 
lois uiie fois t'tablies soieiit ex6cut6es. Ainsi, il u'est (raucune consequence 
tiuil y nit tt'lU's du tt^lles rej^ies pour les jeux de d6s et de cartes, mais on ue 
l)()urra jouer un seul moment si Ton ne suit pas ^ la rigueur ces r('^Kl»'s arbi- 
traircs dont on sera convenu. Lavertu et le vice, le bien et le mal moral si tut 
done en tout pays ce qui est utile ou nuisible il la soci6te; et dans tons Ics lieux 
et dans tous les temps, celui (jui sacrifie le plus au public est celui qu'on 
appellera le plus vertueux,— Voltaire: Traitc de Metaphysique, Chap. IX. 



CHAPTER 1. 

THE COURT AND ROYAL FAMILY. 

The Queen: her national position and life— Officials— Dinners— Ladies— States- 
men in attendance— Duke of Richmond— Lord Carnarvon— Sir H. Ponsonby 
—Lady Ely— Duchess of Roxburghe— Lady Churchill— Princess Beatrice- 
Prince and Princess Christian— Princess Mary and Duke of Teck— Mar- 
quis and Marchioness of Lome — Prince and Princess Edward of Saxe- 
Weimar— Comit Gleichen— Prince Leiningen. 

Every one knows enough of the government of England to be 
aware lliat, in name a monarcliy, it is, in reality, a republic. The 
Sovereign is a fact, but it is rather the idea than the tact of sover- 
eiguty which dominates the Ii]nglish mind. British loyalty is divided 
between a woman and an abstraction. The woman is the Queen; 
the abstraction is the power she exercises. 

The thirty or forty millions of the inhabitants of the United 
Kingdom accept the monarchy; have not the slij^htest wish to get 
rid of it; hont)r the Monarch as their Church Catechism bids them 
do; would reprobate any attacks upon the royal person; would 
resent disrespectful language about her; would even risk their lives 
to save hers. Yet of these millions, not one per cent.— not one in 
a thousand— has ever seen the Queen, knows of her except iiom the 
newspapers, has any notion of what she is like except from pictures, 
oi of the manner in which she passes her days. Imagine it possible 
that the Queen should die, and her death be kept a profound secret; 
imagine tiiat certain members of her household and ministeis of 
State conspired together to pretend that she continued to live; 
imagine that the same announcements appeared as appear now in 
the "Court Circular;" imagine linally that it were practicable to 
perpetuate this delusion, and that the conspirators kept good faith 
among themselves: imagine this to be the case, and all would go on 
as it goes on now. 

There axe not five hundred of Her Majesty's subjects who need or 



4 SOCIETY IN LONDON. . 

would suspect anything to be wrong. The inclemency of the sea- 
son, neuralgic pains jiTways supervening on exposuie to the air, 
general debiliiy, an insuperable indisposilion to see or be seen by 
any of her tellow-creatures — any of ihese pleas would be accepted, 
provided that no suspicions were excited, as a perfectly reasonable 
excuse for the Queen of England being completely, as she is now 
all but ccniplelely, invisible to the ordinary eye. Two or three 
years ago there died a great English noble— the Duke of Portland 
— who liad certainly not revealed himself to more than a score of 
his relatives or retainers during the last two or three decades of his 
existence. He had becpme a myth while he was still in the flesh. 
Yet the proposition that he was alive never excited controversy, and 
his estate was as well managed as it he himself issued daily orders 
to his agents. 

The business of the English empire would be conducted in the 
same fashion, and might be conducted with nearly tiie same cere- 
mony, if tlie Sovereign were as tar removed from the mundane 
vision, from year's end to year's end, as she is from the vision of all 
save an infinitesimal minority of those who gratefully confe.-s her 
supremacy. It is sometimes said that the English people are imper- 
vious to ideas. Tlieir altitude toward ihe throne jmd its occupant 
shows that they are not. To the overwhelming mass of the British 
nation, monarchy is an idea pure and simple — intangible, impal- 
pable — yet never a phantom, still less a chimera. 

But it monarchy is an iaea in England, do not suppose that the 
monarchy is a nullity. It is no paradox to say that the Monarch is 
a reality because she is, to such an extent, an idea, that she has 
power because she circumscribes it within such exiguous limits, that 
her presence is worshiped because so few manifestations of it are 
vouchsafed to the worshiper. Her existence is one constant appeal 
to the imagination of the most imaginative people under the sun. 
She constitutes the tiny bit of romance in the grimly prosaic lives 
of tens of thousands. The masses who would probably be organized 
to agitate and howl if the Queen were to assert any of the "powers 
which the law of the Constitution, l)y a series of obsolete fictions, 
reposes in her, would immediately be converted into champions if 
any one in public were lightly to speak against her, or so much as 
refuse to credit her wiili the sum of all remiinne graces and virtues. 

Again, the Queen of England, notwithstandmg that her strength 
resides chiefiy' in her ideal aspect, is not a political nonentity, because 
she is an exceedingly clever woman. And hei'e let me offer a word 
of advice and caution. In England one may sometimes find one's self 
in the company of people who speak of the royal family as it iis 
members were, without an exception, stupid, ignorant, wrong- 
headed, maladroit, and dull. That is the way of the more vulgar 
Britons. They detract their royalties as they calumniate their 
climate. The truth is, the reigning family in England is remark- 
able for its extreme ability, its skillfulness in dealing with situations 
and with men or women, its rapid and accurate perception, its in- 
tuitive savoir-faire. The ('rown Princess of Germany is, we all 
know, one of the most gifted ladies in Europe, and only a woman 
of the highest caliber could have held her own, as she has done in 
private and public matters, against Bismarck, or have suggested 



SOCIETY IN LONDON". 5 

hcrselt to hira as »in obstacle In the path of his policy with which 
he must leckou. r* 

Perhaps 1 inu^' be asked tor a proof of the talents with which 1 
have creililed Ihe C^ueeii of Ent^laiid. 1 reply, look at the tacts. 
She becan'ie a sovereign forty-eigUt years ago; she remains a sover- 
eign still; the toundation ot licr throne is (iee|)er and tinner tlnm 
ever. Is not this enough? Wliat would you more? There is a 
proverb which tells us that, if it needs a clever man to make a lort- 
nne, it needs a cleverer man to keep it. Depend upon it that the 
Sovereign who, when her leign is well-nigh halt a century old, has 
absolutely nothing to tear from any hostile movement, is a very re- 
markable woman inileed. 

The Queen's year is divided between a Scotch chateau, a feudal 
mansion in the suburbs — the stateliest building periiaps of its kind 
in Europe— and a country-house close to a fashionable yachting 
resort. At Bahiioral she lives as much as possible in the open air, 
reading State documents and being road to by her ladies durinir the 
summer in a tent; at AVindsor -and as Windsor is only some 
twenty miles from Loudon, it may be called a suburb— and at 
Osborne, she l«.ads the existence ot an august recluse, tiie sohtude 
and monotony of which are only broken by frequent State visits, 
and more unfrequent State ceremonials. 

The constitutional functions of sovereignty may be dismissed in a 
sentence. The Queen signs documents and suggests or vetoes the 
appointment of bishops— that is about all. Yet there is an indirect 
influence which she exercises on affairs, and, if she does not check 
the advance of events tor long, she, may raise difficulties in the way 
of their progress, or, on the other hand, may help their dispatch. 
The English Premier would find his position much lighter if lie 
could forego his daily letter to Her Majesty when Parliament is in 
session, and if, in other matters, he were not obliged to observe the 
formality of consulting the royal will. 

Having vast experience, the Queen has some of the authority 
which it confers. So recently as the autumn of last year that 
authority was exercised. The two chambers of the legislature were 
in collision about parliamentary reform. The Queen summoned to 
her perliaps the only public man with whom she may be now de- 
scribed as on terms of personal friendship — the Duke of Richmond. 
Formerly ller Majesty reL^arded with exceptional favor and con- 
fidence Lord Carnarvon, but he fell from the royal grace, never 
completely to be restored, when he quarreled with Lord Beacons- 
field. The Queen, I say, sent tor the Duke of Richmond, exhorted 
him to close the feud between the two parties and the two Houses, 
and plainly said that upon any terms the matter must be arranged. 
What followed? The Duke communicated the will of his royal 
mistress to Lord Salisbury, and the incident was at an end. 

Witli the exception of the Duke of Richmond, the Quuen has 
among the statesmen ot her epoch no j^ersonal friends who would 
dare plainly to express their opinion to Her Majesty. Lord Beacons- 
field, who, by his adroitness, patient courtiership, unbounded and 
extravagant adulation, had completely overcome the royal preju- 
dices against him, which at one time seemed insuperable, and had 
won the heart and trust of his Sovereign, was the last minister who 



6 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

fully enjoyed the royal favor. Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone periodically 
risit Her Majesty, but the personal relations between the Sovereign 
and her Premier are of a tepid kind, and have been known to be 
actually strained and chilly. The position of the Queen is solitary 
— nay, sad. It the late John Brown was mourned so deeply by Her 
Majesty, and missed so much, it was because he had acquired by 
lonir years of faithful service some of its privileges — because Her 
Majesty knew that she could trust his judgment and counsel. Few 
are tlie friendships which royalty can allow itself, and the attendant 
of the Queen of England who died some three years ago was not a 
menial, but a friend. With Sir Henry Pousonby her relations are 
those of personal cordiality, but still formal and official. Tne three 
most intimate friends of tier own sex possessed by the Queen are 
the Dowager Duchess of Roxburghe, Lady Ely, and Lady Churchill, 
none of them remarkable for cleverness, tact, or social talent, but 
each habituated to the ways and attached to the person of the 
Sovereign. 

The lot of the maids of honor is far from easy. Tne demand upon 
their physical strength and patience is continuous. They must al- 
ways be within call, and as Her Majesty seldom or never reads a 
newspaper with her own eyes, neither their eyes nor their voice 
must ever tire. Do the hardships of their position, it may be 
asked, end here? Not perhaps exactly. Crowned womanhood is 
no exception to the general law of womanhood, and, kindly though 
her heart may be, the Queen has the capriciousness of her exalted 
station and her sex. Lady Ely— a woman with the most affectionate 
manner in tlie world; all tenderness and sympathetic interest in 
those with whom she is brought into contact — has no more disagree- 
able duty to fulfil] than that, not seldom imposed upon her, of tell- 
ing some lady of the Court that her presence has become burden- 
some to Majesty, and that she must go. The Queen likes young 
people about her, and has few favorites past middle age. Within 
the last few years two ladies whom the Queen had received into her 
service with open arms have been dismissed suddenly— one because 
the Sovereign had wearied of her, the other because she had proved 
physically unequal to tlie labor of the position. 

How speeds daily life beneath the royal roof? Much in this fash- 
ion. The Queen takes her meals— breakfasts anil lunches— in her 
aparfcments alone. The ladies of the Court have a sitting-room and 
dining-room appropriated to themselves, and at Balmoral the dimen- 
sions of these are of the most modest kind, the entire space occupied 
b}' the castle being so limited that the Queen's ministers in attend- 
ance are requested not to bring a private secretary with them, and 
are compelled to transact all their business and correspondence in 
their bed-chamber. 

The royal dinner hour is nine o'clock, and at five minutes to nine 
the Queen, if she has company, enters the room in which the guests 
are assembled, and then, as the hour strikes, leads the way to the 
banquet. Koyal dinner parties have one great advantage— they are 
very short. Soon after ten the diners are once more in the salon or 
corridor of reception, the Queen addresses each in succession for a 
few minutes, and before eleven the function is at an end. What 
impresses those who have had the honor of conversation with Her 



SOCIETY IN LONDON". 7 

Majesty moat is the singularly minute acquaintance which she pos- 
sesses of the character and the career, the fortune ami the families 
of her most distinguished subjects. In the army she takes the 
keenest interest, and exercises in many methods her personal initia- 
tive and command. Valentine B;»l<cr Pacha, now in the Etxyptian 
service, and formerly colonel of a Hussar regiment, would have 
been restored to his original rank in the British army but tor ihe 
hostile intervention of the Sovereign. More lately the Queen gave 
instructions that a lady of title, guilty of a literary indiscretion,^ 
should he forbidden to attend the roj'al drawing-rooms of the Lon-* 
don season. 

When the Queen mokes her influence felt in the restricted sphere' 
of activity which still remains open to her, she generally does so in 
a way that most of her subjects would approve. A few failings, 
some feminine, some royal, apart, the Queen is a fair embodiment 
and reflection of English common sense, accurately understanding 
in the main the genius of her people and the currents of popular 
feeling; well knowing that princes are loved and esteemed in pro- 
portion as they show themselves to be human, and that the autobio- 
graphical volumes, contemptible though, as literary productions, 
ihey are, wiiich ehe has from time to time given to the public, or 
the messages which she addresses to the people when any great 
event occurs— a railway accident or a battle — perceptibly slrengtlien 
the foundations on which the structure of monarchy rests. And 
perhaps Englishmen and Englishwomen of the middle or the lower 
class like their Sovereign none the less because so many of her tastes 
are identical with their own. Queen Victoria has not only the true 
German love for pageants and ceremonials of State, uniforms, trap- 
pings, shows, and functions of all kinds, but the passion distinctive 
of the English proletariat for funerals and for whatever is associated 
with the sepulcher. It is morbid, but what will you? There is 
nothing which fascinates the British workman and his wife so 
much as the busmess of the undertaker. The crowning ambition 
in the laborer's life is a handsome funeral. Coffins, shrouds, 
hearses, and nodding plumes deliglit him. He and his wife are 
enthusiastic over what they will call a beautiful corpse. These 
peculiarities are illustrated by the Queen on a becoming scale. 
There is a bliss in tears, and to English royalty there is a pleasure, 
nay, a rapture, in the pomp and apparatus of mortality. 

The Queen's j'oungest daughter, the Princess Beatrice, now about > 
to be married to Prince Henry of Battenberg, has been for years 
her mother's constant companion, and will see a good deal of Her 
Majesty in the future. The English mind has been, unconsciously . 
it may be, impressed by the spectacle of the Queen and the Princess, 
by the contrast it suggests, and by the tender thought fulness shown 
by the girl to the woman without failure and without stint. To 
Her Royal Highness lite, varied though the domestic routine of the 
Court has been by attendance at flower shows, bazaars, and fetes, 
has proved perhaps a trifle monotonous. It was necessary to do 
something, and four years ago the Princess determined to change 
her state, and privately betrothed herself to the liandsome «cion of 
Prussian royalty. The secret was well kept. When the Princess 
Beatrice breathed it into the ears of her royal mother a little storm 



8 SOCIETY m LOKDOK. 

broke. It did not last long, but while it lasted it was acute. Every- 
thing is now arranged. The formal consenl of the Sovereign has 
been'given, and though the match is not liked by any of the royal 
family, it is acquiesced in. The Prince of Wales may wish it were 
otherwise, and in that desire, if it be his desire, lie is influenced less 
by personal sentiments than 6y his own idea of public opinion. 
The English people, he knows, is averse to this indetiuite multipli- 
cation of petty German potentates, supported by English money, 
dwelling under the shadow of royalty. Moreover His Ro}'al High- 
ness is aware that the pretensions of these foreign princes, the airs 
they give themselves, the knowledgs especially of militaiy matters 
which they profess, are not acceptable to the English gentry. As a 
question of taste, therefore, and policy, the Prince of Wales does 
not encourage alliances of that sort. But he is too sagacious to 
create any disturbance about it, and he will receive Prince Henry 
as his brother-in-law much as he received Prince Christian or the 
Marquis of Lome. 

Prince Christian, who married the third daughter of the Sov- 
ereign, lives the life of an English country gentleman in a capital 
house in Windsor Park— an amiable, domesticated, philoprogenitive 
person; not brilliant, pt-rbaps, j^et not wanting in the quality of 
practical shrewdness Silly stories have been current about him, 
such as that he had conceived before his marriage higher matri- 
monial ambitions, and that he had previously rehearsed the drama 
of domesticity elsewhere. These stories are fictions. Prince Chris- 
tian is nothing more than he seems to be, and what 1 have de- 
scribed. There is no skeleton in bis cupboard. He is a fair shot, 
a kindly companion, hospitable, contented with his lot; equally 
pleased whether some of his royal relatives come down to shoot 
with him or whether he is shooting by himself. The Princess 
Ciiristian takes an interest in charitable and beneficent institutions 
of every kind; bazaars, asylums, schools, orphanages, and so forth. 
She is the feminine equivalent of the Englishman who is a pro- 
fessional chairman of public dinners and patron of eleemosynary 
tunds. She is the friend and colleague of Mrs. Jeune, whose ac- 
quaintance every visitor of distinction makes before he or she has 
been in London many :iays. 

Let me preface my remarks on the Prince of Wales with a few 
brief comments on the other royalties. The Princess Mary, with 
her ducal husband, Prince Teck, has quitted the English capital, 
probably forever, and, as is well known, is now settled at Florence. 
She was always much liKcd in England. Teck, however, was not 
a success. The Prince ot Wales and his peojile never tr ok kindly 
to him. They recognized in idm sometliing which the English call 
bad form. His manner lacked the repose which English taste de- 
mands. Physically by no means ill-looking — indeed almost hand- 
some—and with a fine presence, he possessed by nature, and he ac- 
quired by art, nothing of the grand manner. He missed the due 
proportion of things, and showed an ignorance of their fitness. He 
presumed upon his position with a curious clumsiness. He was 
habitually late for appointments, and when he apologized for his 
unpunctuality he did so in a manner which aggravated the original 
oftense. Then he was not always happy in his conversation at 



SOCIETY in LOIS^DON. ^ 

dinner, contiiving too often to say the wrong thins to the wronj; 
person. He iiimself said that he was never well leceived in Enj^- 
iand. Whether his grievances were real or inui^Mnary, he paraded 
tlieni too much. He wpnt about complaining ot Ijis treatment and 
protesting, without the slightest provocation, that he intended 
henceforth to look after hiniself. Jle was supposed to be wanting 
in deference to his wife altogether; lie rubbed ui) the most fastidious 
and sensitive portion ot English society the wrong way. Neverthe- 
less a good fellow. 

Of the Princess Louise. Marchioness of Lome, and of the Marquis 
of Lome, it is not possible to say much which is not known ah'eady. 
His Lordship, though the heir to the ancient Scotch dukedom of 
Argyll, was never made one of the family bv his royal brothers in- 
law. It was regarded as a mesalliance. His appointment to the 
Viceroyship of Canada was a temporary release from a position not 
merely' diflicii It, but impracticable. He has uow been two years in 
England again, and he finds his path much smoother. He is a gen- 
tleman of "pleasant, picturesque appearance, thoroughly courteous 
and kindly, ot reflective habits, studious tastes, and no mean in- 
tellectual endowments. The sense of novelty and strangeness he 
experienced at being the Queen's sonin-law has worn oft. He has 
developed an independence of character, has resolved to live his 
own life, reading much, writing a little, and geneially following 
the bent ot his own excellent inclinations. Tlie Prince ot Wales 
recognizes the propriety of his brother-in-law's course. The Mar- 
chioness of Lome has her own occupations, is a passable artist and 
tolerable statuary. And so between the^i the pair have settled 
down into a steady, respectable, refined, dignified existence. It 
was their common wish that they should proceed to India as 
Viceroy and Vicequeen after tlie retirement of Lord Ripon; but 
there were political obiections to the step, and the force ot these 
was fully admitted by Lord J.orne and the Princess. 

There are three other royal or semi-royal personages, of wliom 
everything that it is necessary to state may be summed up in halt 
a dozen sentences. Than Prince Edward ot Saxe- Weimar, till the 
other day Governor of Portsmouth, no more thoroughly excellent 
or universally popular man has been ever known in England. A 
capital officer, he was generosity itsi If as a host. Government 
House at Portsmouth was always open in his time to every properly 
accredited comer, Bright, cheery, acute, ingenious, resourceful, 
assisted— nay, made — by his Princess, he won all hearts. His local 
popularity expanded into a national popularity, and nothing could 
be more acceptable to the English people thnn his promotion to the 
military command ot Ireland. Count Gleichen, who married a 
sister of the late Lord Hertford, is a meritorious sculptor, working 
at his art as if it weie hi» only means of subsistence, and receiving 
many valuable commissions. His studio is In St. James's Palace, 
where he has a modest little establishment. To the majority of 
Englishmen his existence is unknown, and in London society he is 
seldom seen. He is the father of a clever and graceful daughter — 
herself no mean sculptress— the Countess Feodore. Of Prince 
Leiningen 1 have nothing more to say than that he is commander 



10 SOCIETY IN LONDOIT. 

ot the Queen's yacht, that he has a pleasant presence, anl a short, 
quick, imperious manner. 



CHAPTER 11. 

THE PRINCES AND ROYAL DUKES. 

The Duke of Connaught— The Duke of Cambridge— The Duke and Duchess of 
Edinburgh— The Prince and Princess of Wales: His Royal Highnesses posi- 
tion and character, place and influence in London society; his children, 
friends, and courtiers— Mr. Christopher Sykes— Lord Cadogan— Lord Fife- 
Mr. Horace Farquhar— Captain Oliver Montagu— Lord Charles Beresford— 
Sandi'ingham— Mr. Francis KnoUys— Lord Suffield— Colonel Arthur Ellis- 
Colonel Teesdale— Sir Dighton Probyn. 

The tour other members of the royal family of whom it is im- 
portant to convey a right idea are the Prince of Wales, the Duke of 
Edinburgh, the Duke of 'Connaught, and the Duke of Cambridge. 
The Duke of Cambridge, the cousin of the Queen, is the visible 
and peimanent official head of the English army. A bluff, fresh, 
hale country gentleman, somewhat past middle age, witn some- 
thing of the vigorous, healthy frankness of the English skipper, and 
something, too, of the Prussian martinet; industrious, punctual, 
lising early, seeking rest late, fond ot life anl its pleasures, of good 
dinners, good cigars, pleasant women, oi the opera, of the play, 
slightly given to slumber before dinner is well over, joyous, cheery, 
still retaining traces of the ardor of youth — this is His Roj^al High- 
ness George, Duke of Cambridge; a man of strong feelings and 
stronger partialities, ju8t by principle, yet liable to be unjust by 
prejudice; honestly anxious to do the right thing, yet frequently 
doing the wrong. His role is one of no small difficulty. Con- 
stitutionally distrustful of reforms, hs is compelled to accept peri- 
odic revolutions. 

His day begins with exercise on horseback, then follow breakfast 
and official papers at his house in Park Lane; from two to seven, 
and often later, he is at the Horse Guards in Pall Mall. If 
necessary, he works again at night; if unnecessary, he dedicates 
the evening to enjoyment. At least these royal dukes are not 
drones in the hive. 

His life is full of many stories. He has been ( ngaged in many 
affairs ot the heart. He is a man of warm feeling and much loyalty 
to those whom he loves; tempted to behave heartlessly, he has uni- 
formly comported himself honorably and wxll. He is to this da}' 
ihe mature child of a passion that is never unprincipled. He finds 
himself frequently in collision with the parliamentary head of the 
army, the Secretary of State for Military Affau's, and with the high 
officials of Ihe War Office, Lord Wolseley, and his men. He bears 
the vexations which cross his path with equanimity, tempered or 
relieved by devotional ejaculations. The constitutional spirit which 
has become part of the Qiieen's nature, and is as the breath of his 
nostrils to the Prince of Wales, dominates in the main the Duke of 
Cambridge. He acquiesces, because the Constitution of the realm 
demands it, in much which he cordially detests. Yet, if be believes 
in his heart that the army in consequence of new-fangled inaova- 



SOniETY TN LONDOTr. 11 

tions i<i fjoinc: to thf> dog? or tlie dovil, he never says so. He is, on 
the whole, a joviiil optitnist when he might have been a morose 
pessimist. He has the f;icilitv of his family for details. The domer 
of every offici-r ot any distinction in the army is at his finijjers' ends. 
His judjiment of individuals is ijood. lie lobt his head in tlie 
Crimea, hut is an expert critic ot tactics, and knows how troops 
ought to be handled, whether at Aldershol or in the Soudan. He 
has an immense regard and an exaggerated tear for public opinion 
— especially when Unit opinion finds articulate expression in print 
—and has before now given excellent counsel, which has sometimes 
been obeyed, to the Prince of Wales Take him as he is, he is not 
only a favorable specimen ot the House or Hanover, but a good 
specimen of a man. 

It is usually supposed that the position which the Duke of Cam- 
bridge occupies is reserved for the Duke of Connauglit, who, with 
the thoroughness and courage of his race, has set himself to learn 
practically the duties ot soldiering. As a cadet at Woolwich, Prince 
Arthur went ihrough the curriculum of an officer of the Royal En- 
gineers or Artdlery. If when he served in Egypt three years ago 
he encountered no alarming amount of peril, that was not his fault. 
In India he has spared himself no labor. He shares his brother's. 
the Prince of Wales's, accentuated devotion for the minutia} of uni- 
form; a devotion w^hich they each of Ihem inherit from their father 
and mother. There is no better judge of a march past than the 
Queen. No ('ne has a quicker eye for buttons, epaulets, and 
sword belts than the Prince of Wales. The Duke ot Connaught is 
not to be blamed if one of the articles in his faith is military smart- 
ness. He is a good patriot and a good soldier. His face, with its 
bronzed complexion, well-shaved chin, heavy moustache, is that 
typical of the English or German officer. He is singularly modest 
and unalTected, anxious to learn, and when he thinks he "has mas- 
tered his lesson, tnen, and not before, confident. His return to Eng- 
land is now anticipated with interest, and when he is back we may 
be sure that he will commit no mistakes— at most the minimum of 
mistakes peimissible to a prince. 

The Duke ot Edinburgh is a contrast to both his brothers, and is 
less popular than he deserves to be. His wife, the daughter of the 
late and the sister ot the present Czar, never captivated the hearts 
of.lhe English people like her sister-in-law, the Princess ot Wales. 
But it may be doubted whether there is room in England for two 
such princesses as the consort of the Heir- Apparent to the English 
throne, who was in possession ot the ground long before the Duchess 
of Edinburgh had placed her foot upon the soil of Great Britain. 
It is unavoidable that both the Duke and Duchess ot Edinburgh 
should be eclipsed by the elder brother, upon whom so many of the 
social and ceremonial duties of sovereignty had already devolved. 

The Duke of Edinburgh is a clear-headed, astute, sagacious, and 
careful man ot business. His fortune is not in proportion to his 
position, and his demands upon it are great. So, therefore, is the 
necessity tor thrift. Naturally this has laid him open to the charge 
ot parsimony; but he is not parsimonious, he is simply wise. He 
does not throw his money away or cast pearls before swine. But 
there is no real niggardliness about him, as those who have stayed 



12 SOCIETY IN" LONDON". 

in his bouse or cruised with him in his ship know. His manner, 
it muy be admitted, is less charming, polished, and conciliatory than 
that ot his elder brother. He illustrates perhaps a little too 
aggressively the nil admirari principle which is itself so essentially 
English. When the Prince of Wales is visiting any of his future 
subjects he takes the utmost interest in everything which concerns 
them, and lavishes his admiration upon all their possessions, whether 
it be their wives or their daughters, their houses or estates, their 
pictures or their wines, their clears, silver and gold plate, or china. 

This is not the way ot the Duke ot Edinburgh. He is, apt to be 
brusque, sometimes even a little contemptuous or disparaging, in 
his comments. It he is shown an heir-loom, or introduced to a rare 
vintage, he spontaneously compares it with something of the same 
sort which he himself possesses. It is a good wine, but not so good 
as some in his own cellar. It is an interesting piece ot crockery, 
but he has seen others which would beat it, and, for that matter, he 
can beat it himself. Or Mr. Christopher S3-kes, the object ot 
whose life it is to irradiate the lives of royalties, reserves for the 
Duke of Edinburgh his best covert in the shooting season, and His 
Royal Highness acknowledges the compliment in what Mr. Sykes 
considers a grudging fashion. That all princes are charming is 
.part ot the religion of society in London. The standard of perfect 
'charm is afforded by the Prince of Wales, and of that standard the 
Duke of Edinburgh just falls short. 

When the Duchess of Edinburgh first came to England she was 
the victim ot an untoward combination of circumstances. The En- 
glish people were in one of those humors, which recur at intervals, 
of hostility to Russia. She found herself— and bow could she help 
it?— in an unsympathetic atmosphere. She was greeted with respect 
of course, but not with enthusiasm. She reciprocated the tepidity 
ot the sentiment displayed toward her. The English public were 
not slow to discover that there was less of fascination in her bow, 
as she drove in Hyde Park, than in that ot the Princess cf Wales, 
and that her face was seldom brightened by a smile. Those who 
are better acquainted with her have long since learned her merits. 
Ptill her position in the economy of English royalty is subordinate, 
and even obscure. She is not, and she will never be, a popular 
personage. But she is a deserving princess, and, as 1 have said, 
the place which some expected to see her fill was preoccupied by 
the wife of her brother-in-law. 

I must crave pardon for having left to the last the social ruler ot 
the English realm, the Prince ot Wales himself. I call him the 
social ruler, because in all matters appertaining to society and to 
Court ceremonial he plays vicariously the part of the Sovereign. 
The English monarchy may be described at the present moment as 
beiner in a state of commissiun. Most of the duties of official rou- 
tine are performed by the Queen. It is the Prince of AVales who 
transacts its ceremonial business, who shows himself to the masses 
as the embodiment ot the monarchical principle, presides at the 
opening of exhibitions, at levees, and, with the Princess, at drawing- 
rooms. It there were no Marlborough House there would be no 
Court in London. The house of the Prince of Wales may be an 
unsatisfactory substitute for a Court, but it is the only substitute 



SOflKTV TK LONDOK. 1 ') 

which exi.'9fs, and it is (he best wliich, under the circumstances, is 
attainable. 

Every man, so the philosophers say, uniler^ors a complete change 
once in seven years. Not a liher, muscle, particle of llesh, or drop 
of blood is the same at the end of that period as it was at the be- 
pinninix. Tiiis scientific fact, if royalty is amenable to the ojera- 
tious of science, might explain wliy the Prince of Wales is in 1885 
very diflerent trom what he was in 1878. The ric orarjcuse is over 
and forgotten, or remembered only, and only looked at, through 
Ihe mellowing medium of middle age. The Prmce of Wales does 
not enjoy existence less, but more — calmly, as one to whom the 
pleasure, Which was once a passion, has been transiormed into an 
art. The facility of appreciation remains, but appetite lias been 
curbed by the discipbne of time. 

Ilis Royal Ilighness's father was tlie incarnation of respectability, 
and the Prince iiimself has now confirmed the idol of respectability 
in the highest niche of his country's pantlieon. He shows, too, that 
lie has inherited something of the paternal anxiety lavished years 
ago upon himself. His eldest son is of full age, and might in the 
ordinary course of things expect an establishment of his own. But 
the nature of the lad is gentle and submissive. He gives his parents 
no solicitude. He is content to live under the paternal roof, and 
has no uncontrollable desire for the possession of the royal substi- 
tute lor the ordinary latch-ke}'. A thoroughly good boy this; tended 
by liis fond father in all things with a vigilance resembling that exer- 
cised by a duenna over a beauty and an heiress at a ball. The second 
son of the Prince and Princess of Wales, it, like his elder brother, ad- 
niirably conducted, is of a more vivacious temperament, has more 
" go," and may therefore yet give some trouble. As for the girls, 
they are what English princesses of their age should be— model 
young ladies. 

The Prince of Wales has witnessed the disappearance of most of 
the intimates of his youth or early manhood. Many of tliose whom 
he delighted to honor have not done well. Lord Aylesford died the 
other day. Walter Harbord and George Russell are among the dis- 
7)rt7'?/.9 -have, Anglice, "gone under." Others have suffered the 
eclipse of calamity or death. But the Prince of Wales survives, 
and, having profited by the lessons of experience, can look back 
upon a past marked by incidents and vicissitudes, not uniformly 
wise or decorous, with a feeling ol satisfaction at having risen 
superior to his early eccentricities. His Royal Highness has devel 
oped into a sort of censor and inquisitor of society and of the Court. 
As his royal mother is apt to sit in judgment upon him, so he in his 
turn criticises, counsels, casn'gates those who are subject to his 
authority. He is prodigal of advice on great matters and small. 
"\Theiher it be a conjugal quarrel or a questionable marriage, the 
pattern of a coat or the color of a frock, tlie Prince, if lie is" inter- 
est! d in those whom the matter concerns, volunteers his advice, it 
is all meant and done in the kindliest spirit in the world. His 
Royal Plighness wishes to be the mentor as well as the presiding 
genius of the aristocratic system of England. He is therefore the 
champion of the proprieties, and the gentle but firm reprover of all 
deviations from the standard ol correctness. He attaches great im- 



14 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

portance to the ordinances of religion, attends cluircli regularly, 
digests and criticises the sermon, has a quick eye for the mise en 
scene of the ecclesiastical interior. 

The Prince of Wales combines with this devotion to decorum a 
love of mystery. It pleases him to be selected as exclusive confi- 
dant ot any friends, of either sex, in whom he takes a special inter- 
est. It would, he frankly iells them, be indiscreet to impart lo 
others the information with which it is right to intrust him. Kor 
does he ever violate the faith reposed in him. He is as loyal as he 
is kindly and considerate. If he deems it desirable to make use of 
what has been told him, he never mentions names, and he only says 
just enough to convince others that lie is in possession of all the 
facts. Frequently the private intelligence of which he is the deposi- 
tory seems to requu-e further elucidation. There is a riddle to be 
solved or an enigma to be unraveled. His Ro^al Highness in fol- 
lowing a clew displays all the patience of a detective police officer 
on his probation, and quite as much acumen. This is one of his 
peculiarities, and it is in reality perfectly harmless. He has nothing 
of the mischief-maker in his composition. He has, moreover, a 
thoroughly creditable sense of his own responsibility. He wishes 
to make those about him virtuous and good, and if he considers 
that the best way of doing this is to superintend, and, when neces- 
sary, investigate, their affairs, who shall say him nay? 

The Prince of Wales is the Bismarck of London society; he is 
also its microcosm. All its idiosj'-ncrasies are reflected in the person 
ot His Koyal Highness. Its hopes, its fears, its aspirations, its 
solicitudes, its susoeptibilities, its philosophy, its way of looking at 
life and of appraising character— of each of these is the Heir- Appar- 
ent the mirror. The sympathy which thus exists between the Prince 
and his social subjects is vivid and intimate; the most ill-natured 
censor can not deny that its results are unmixedly good. H a defi- 
nition of society were sought for, 1 should be inclined to give it a? 
the social area of which the Prince of Wales is personally cognizant, 
within the limits of which he visits, and every member of which is 
to some extent in touch tvith the ideas and wishes of His Royal 
Highness. But for this central authority society in London would 
be in imminent danger of falling into the same chaos and collapse 
as the universe itself, were one of the great laws of nature to be sus- 
pended for five minutes. 

The introduction of the cigaielle or cigar after dinner, when the 
ladies have retired, and the economy of wine which it promotes; 
the diffusion of a taste for music and the theater; the personal as 
well as the professional welcome accorded to theatrical and operatic 
artistes in society, and the extent to which at evening parties their 
services are in requisition; smoking concerts; the growing practice 
of serving the joint at dinner as the piece de resistance immediately 
after the fish, and before the entrees ; above all things, tlie tendency 
toward curtailment of the menu (though London dinners are still 
outrageously long) — trifling as in themselves they may appear — 
these, each of them, illustrate the potency of the Prince's initiative. 

Again, the Prince of Wales raiely misses attendance at church on 
Sunday, and London society scrupulously follows his example. JSfor, 
while the Prince exercises throughout society a uniformly control- 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 15 

linff discipline, has he— a consequence which might, perhaps, have 
been feared— reduced it to a dead level of sameness and dulltiess. 
On the contrary, he has alwaj's encouraged with hie approval, within 
the limits of discretion and decorum, the presence of original and 
even eccentric characters. Alive to the danger ot stagnation, he shows 
in many ways his wise desire to admit into it fresh currents ot social 
activity and thought. Its innate tendency to sink into a stale of 
vapid conventionality is thus largely neutralized. Moreover, the 
Prince of Wales does what is possible to perpetuate those ancient 
virtues which, in a condition of things highly complex and artificial, 
there is a risk of being crowded out of existence— such virtues, I 
nie;in, as firmness to friends, chivalrous regard for the feelings ot 
others, good faith, and high honor. 

1 1 has sometimes occurred to me that the Prince of AVales may be 
compared to a physician of the body politic whose prescriptions aie 
regarded as infallible, and who decides in exactly what proportions 
the two opposite principles of social medicine shall be combined by 
inferior practitioners; how far Bohemianism may be blended with 
Piiarisaism; in what quantity the acid of rakisliness ma}' be infused 
into the alkali of lespect ability. From this point of view the En- 
glish lleir-Apparent is a great medicino man, ever beneficently ready 
with his counsel and specifies, quick to diagnose the patient, to pro- 
nounce upon the evils wliich lie at the root of the malady, and to 
iuilicate how they may be removed. 

In his attitude, then, to English society the Prince of Wales, at 
the age of forty-three years, is a benevolent despot. lie wishes it to 
enjoy itself, to disport itself, to dance, sing, and play to its heart's 
content. But he desires that it should do so in the right manner, 
at the right times and in the right places; and ot these conditions 
he holds that he is the best, and, indeed, an infallible, judge. This 
conviction, while it causes him to exercise his authority over his 
subjects in a more or less peremptory way, causes him also to be 
exceedingly jealous of any censure, interference, or criticism from 
outside. Gravely admonishing ladies and gentlemen who are guilty, 
in his judgment, of some dereliction, he denounces those who pre- 
sume to find fault independently of himself. Severe and, when 
necessary, uncompromising, he is just and jealous of those whom 
he corrects. lie loves while he reproves, and he insists that the 
chastening power should be reserved for his hand. 

There is an institution in London— well managed, but badly situ- 
ated—called the New Club, and domiciled in Covent Garden. One 
may pleasantly wind up an evening heie, dancing if you will, and 
being always sure ot capital music. The Prince of Wales takes ex- 
treme interest in the New vjlub; it oJves, in fact, its existence to his 
support. A couple of years ago it was the subject of some criti- 
cisms. His Royal Highness was exceedingly annoyed. What did 
these mischievous and ill-natured intermeddlers mean? Another 
instance of this trait — call it self-sufficiency, irresponsibility, what 
you will — in the character of the Heir- Apparent: no man in Eng- 
land will work liarder or will transact business more etficiently ; but 
the work nuist be done in his own way and at his own time. 

Englishmen, 1 have found, are easily bored. 1 will therefore 
abstain from indulging in any i uither generalities about the Prince 



16 SOCIETY IN LOI^TDOK. 

of Wales, such as that he is the most hard- worked of Englishmen; 
that his manner, which is, indeed, fascinating, has made him many 
friends; that he is a patron of the drama; that he occasionally at- 
tends, in the capacity of Maecenas, theatrical suppers; and that the 
machineiy of English society could not be worked without him. 
Again, i regard it as unnecessary to put into language the banalities 
which readily come to my pen when 1 contemplate the elegant, de- 
lightful, and* lovely vision of the Princess of Wales. Her function 
is to be and to look charmmg ; to preserve, as she does, the appear- 
ance of youth without invoking the aid of art; and to retain, as she 
will retain to the last, the place she won in the English heart when 
she first came to this country more than two de:a(1es ago. As the 
Princess of Wales has her secretary and librarian, she may be 
credited with literary tastes and intellectual powers. That she is 
clever beyond the feminine average, and that. she possesses an abun- 
dant measure of that common sense which is perhaps uncommon, is 
proved by the success with which she has played a domestic part 
that she must have occasionally found difficult and trying. She has 
avoiiied blunders, has fallen into none of the snares which Court 
intrigue might have woven for her. She has never created, or con- 
nived at the creation of, any Court faction of her own. With a 
loyalty and nobility e(|ual to her judgment, she has from the first 
ifientified herself with the Prince of Wales, and has insisted reso- 
lutely on seeing everything from the right point of view. 

It is not enough to say that in doing ihis she has evinced consid- 
erable social dexterity. She has really discharged a constitutional 
service, and by checking the initial growth of a scandal has 
strengthened the foundations of the throne. You will be told that 
Jler Royal Highness is much occupied with trivialities, and that 
her tho!iiihts are centered in her wardrobe. Very well. But pray 
remember that she is a princess, and that in England the sphere of 
the activity of princes and princesses is- rigidly circumscribed. Like 
the Queen, the Princess of Wales has her little host of attendant 
ladies. She displays taward them as much consideration as is 
practicable, and, though their existence may not be uniformly easy, 
it is not wholly unendurable. 

There is nothing in London society more noticeable than its 
monotony. If one is peimitted to penetrate its mopt select circle, 
one will find one's self perpetually in the company of the same per- 
sons, and one's ears will be full of the discussion of the same topics. 
The iadies and gentlemen who are the intimates of the V'rince and 
Princess of Wales, who constitute, in fact, a semi regal court, are 
not more than thirty or forty in number. I need not catalogue tliem 
exhaustively, 1 will notice only a few of the most prominent, sum- 
ming up, as 1 do so, after the names of each, their chief qualities. 

The most constant of courtiers and the most indefatigable of royal 
amphitryons is Mr. Christopher Sykes, tall, well-mannered, well- 
bred, and with an air significant of a curious surprise at the trouble 
which so many ol his fellow-creatures expend upon the serious 
business of existence His bearing indeed is that of a chronic 
inability to comprehend why any one should take life in earnest. 
Yet he is neither lool nor fribble. He is, on the contrary, a hard- 
headed Yorkshireman, who has deliberately chosen his metier, and 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 17 

sticks to it. A.t SiiDdringham and at Marlborough House he is a 
species of what the Lnglish call tame cat. In return for his domes- 
tication his couutr^'-house iu Yorkshire and his Loudon house in 
Mayfair are ever at the disposal of Ids august patrons. TUe social 
wishes of Ibe Prince ot Wales are commands, and when the good 
Christopher receives an iulimaiion trom his royal master that he 
will dine with him on a certain eveninir, and that he expects to meet 
certain guests, any previous engagement is ctinceled, and the ban- 
quet, big or small, is pieparec iorlhwith. Air. ISykes is, possibly 
by the mandate of royalty, unmarried. 

Lord CadoL'an, another intimate of His Royal Highness, is, 
equally in appearance and in tastes, a contrast to Mr. Christopher. 
Sykes. His house, with its marble hall and broad staircase, is a 
palace. He is exceedingly rich, and owns a large proportion of the 
most fajshiouable part of Belgravia. A sportsman, a religionist, 
social reformer upon Conservative lines; he is the pink of social 
orthodoxy. His demeanor is perhaps a little too professorial, but 
he is a good type ot an English nobleman. When one hears that 
the Prince of Walesis his guest, one may be sure that the future 
King of England is in safe hands. 

liord Fife is also a peer vs horn the Prince of AVa^es delights to 
honor in a marked degree. Had he been born in a lower station, 
had he been less the spoiled child of fortune, his Lordship would, 
ere now, young as he is, l.ave done great things; for he is very 
highly gifted; and beneath the softest and pleastrntest manner in 
the world conceals the Quickest perception and the most robust 
judgment. Plis life, his establishment, his ideas, his cuisine are 
ihose of a {rue grand seigneur. He is also indefatigable etpially as 
courtier and banker. His right-hand man is Mr. Horace Farquhar, 
a gentleman of great powers of business, but of not too conciliatory 
address; with a mind so preoccupied by his duty to his patron and 
himself that he has scarcely leisure to trouble himself with other 
thoughts. He has had an astonishing career. By dint of will or 
ability he has reduced success in any enterprise to a certainty. Alto- 
gether a strong man. 

Captain Oliver Montagu is a universal favorite in the Prince of 
Wales's establishment, acceptable in the same degree to each of 
Their Boyal Highnesses, and always willing to make himself useful. 
H he does not exactly possess the gift of wit, he has a readiness and 
resourcefulness of mind, a certain aptness for blunt repartee, which 
is i)robably understDOd better than would be an intellectual article 
of superior make. Lord Charles Beresford, who, as 1 write, is put- 
ting forth his prowess and gallantry iu Egypt, is in a perennial state 
of high fcivor with the ro3^alties, and enjoys a chartered license. 
These Beresfords are indeed an extraordinary family. If none of 
them are overburdened with false modesty, none are conscious of 
fear. Lord William Beresford is the incarnnlion of the fighting 
genius of the English or the Irish race. Lord Chailes is not his in- 
terior in this respect, and has a peculiar sense of fun, which he in- 
dulffes at all seasons, altogether his own. He it was who, when he 
received at the eleventh hour an invitation to dinner irom his royal 
master, sent this characteristic telegram: — " Very sorry; can't come. 
Lie follows by post." 



18 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

But 1 do not propose here to pass in review all those whom the 
future King and Queen of England honor with their friendship and 
intimacy. The pioper place for mentioning their names and de- 
scribing their virtues will occur hereafter. The Prince of AVales is 
both catholic and tolerant in his acquaintances. Ills dominating 
idea is to place himself at the head of English society in general, 
and, though he may have his special favorites, the list of those who 
aie in a general way courtiers would he too lengthy for me to 
enumerate now. Every one worthy of commendation shall be pre- 
sented in a different context. To touch upon the ladies of English 
society whom His Royal Highness distinguishes with exceptional 
attention would be a delicate task; suiiice it to say that he recoj:;- 
nizes impartially feminine merit of every degree. If that only is 
forthcoming he has no prejudices. Diftereut nationalities, diverse 
types of beauty and of character are euuul in his eyes; but in these 
matters, as in others, he respects the eon.vciuoices of society. Thus, 
though tiie enthusiastic admiration lavished by His Koyal Hiahuess 
upon individuals contributed to create the system of protessional 
beauties, he had no sooner ascertained that the elevation of these 
divinities into a caste apart from others was prejudicial to the social 
harmony of the community than he discouraged them. As a con- 
sequence, professional beauties are unknown' in England— at least 
by that name— at the present moment. 

The Prince of Wales, while he is the cause of much hospitality, 
is also himselt hospitable. He entertains assiduou-ly and wisely at 
Marlborough House and Sandringham. He consults in the smallest 
details the comfort of his guests. The ceremonial is as little irk- 
some as possible, and if the hospitality has a fault, it is that it is 
conceived and ministered upon too generous a scale. The English 
royalties are blessed with appetites of singular heartiness. Four 
substantial meals a day are considered by no means an excessive 
allowance. The five o'clock tea, which was once restricted to the 
beverage, whence it deriveif its name, now includes a repast which 
among the British bourgeome would be esteemed an abundant sup- 
per. The plates of thin bread and btitter, cakes, and hot muffins 
are but the fringe of the entertainment; the pieces de renstance to 
which unfailing justice is done are sandwiches of all sorts, ^M/e clc 
foie gras, ham and eggs, cold tongue, and other dainties. 

Although the Prince of Wales honors with his company hosts of 
every degree, you could scarcely imagine liow many excellent per- 
sons there are. the one unfulfilled ambition of whose existence is to 
secure His Royal Highness at their table. With this view, the}' 
plot and plan with infinite ingenuity and patience, making the life 
of Mr. Francis Knollys a burden to him. The number of invita- 
tions sent out to last year's garden party at Marlborough House was, 
1 have read, three thousand. It is certain that at least a third of 
those who were honored wilh the much envied cards are constantly 
occupied with the endeavor to secure royalty as their guest. 

Now it is obvious that the Prince of Wales could not perform his 
duties in this department unless he did so upon a definite principle. 
The invitations he accepts and the houses he patronizes admit, 1 
believe, ot a threefold division. First, there are the great nobles 
and the more or less patrician plutocrats, whose establishments His 



SOCIKTV IN J.OKDOK. 19 

Royal riighness regards it as his pleasure or his duly, or holh, to 
visit. Secondly, there iirc the hosts whom he favors because he 
knows that Ills enjoyment with them will he complete. ThirdJy, 
there are liie representative gatherings wliilher he is impelled partly, 
it may be. by a scnsi' of pleasure Ileuce he attends the suppers or 
dinners of a(!tors and public institutions, for in all things His Royal 
Highness has h consummate eye to cfTect. This it is which causes 
him to distribute his favors impartially between the members of the 
two parties in the State, and which, when five years ago Mr. Glad- 
stone was called to the premiership, caused him, although he had 
only just ariived in London from a continental trip, to call upon the 
nation's choice at half past ten o'clock at night. 

I have already mentioned the name of Mr. Francis Koollys. This 
reminds me that the Prince of Wales is served most admirably by 
the officers of his household. Sir William Knollys, Mr. Knollys's 
father, had the charjje of His Royal Highness's aftairs from the 
very first. The traditions of the father have descended to the son, 
and if the secrets of i\Iarlborough House were divulged it would be 
found that the knowledge of the world possessed by Mr, Knollys, 
his cool, cautious judgment, and his courage, liad rendered services 
for which alike the prince and the country may well be grateful. 
The Prince of Wales has also found trusty servants and wise friends 
in some distinguished soldiers. In addition to Colonel Arthur Ellis 
and Lord Sutlield, Colonel Teesdale, one of the heroes of Kara, and 
Sir Dighton Probyn, a beau sabreur, who won his laurels during 
the Indian mutiny, a born leader of men, who raised a troop of 
irregular cavalry, known still as Probyn's Light House, are among 
those on regular duty at Marlborough House. 



CHAPTER IIL 

COSMOrOLITANISM OP LONDON SOCIETY. 

London a new Paris — Peculiar organization of London society — Introduced to 
society — (leneral features of S(jciety: its staidness, its credulity, its sim- 
plicitj'. its lieartlessness, its careers— ]Mr. Augustus Lumley, Mr. Kenneth 
Howard, Mr. Gillett, Mr. Dalison, 3Ir. Alfred Montgomery. 

England is the country, and London is the capital, of the unex- 
pected. Nothing is exactly lilce what you ^'ere told you would 
find it. The climat? of Great Britain is always caricatured. The 
society of the British metropolis is always misrepresented— by for- 
eigners because they never mix in it l«ng enough to understand it 
as a -whole, by English writers because they are only acquainted 
with one or two aspects of it, while the genius of the nation does 
not enable them to gcnnralize. Society in London — and (vhen you 
have seen that you have seen everything — may be compared to a 
piece of patchwork; you look at it from one point of view, and it 
is all very familiar; from another, and it is strange. Something 
here reminds you of Paris, something a little further on of Vienna, 
something next of any other capital you bke. But the interspaces 
between these apparently familiar experiences are new; in other 
Words, they are English. What you gaze upon is the foreign pat- 



20 SOCIETY IK LOKDOK. 

tern worked \ipnn a native ground. The character of the polite 
Anglo Saxon is tricked out with so much which is entirely novel to 
him tiiat at first it is impossible to distinguish between the original 
object and its superficial or accidental ornament. 

For these reasons people leel both more at home and more strange 
in London society than in any other society in the world. The ex- 
planation is that London society is the most cosmopolitan of any in 
existence. ] shall not err it 1 say that London is the only city in 
Europe which possesses a society upon anything like its own scale. 
Its organization, the care with which its fabric is built up and tend- 
ed, the effort and ingenuity expended upon it, its tolerance, its 
credulity, its mixture of shrewdness and folly, ot common sense 
and conceit, its alternate subservience to and defiance ot the pro- 
prieties—all these, believe me, are uniipie. 

Before 1 illustrate what 1 mean, h t me detine my general position. 
There is, one is told, no waste in nature, and what Paris, since the 
fall of tlie Empire, has lost, London has gained. 1 do not say that 
every one goes to London now as all the world went to Paris onne; 
but the British capital to-day approaches nearer to the Paris of fif- 
teen or twenty years ago than any other capital of the world. Lon- 
don is not the most beautiful, the most splendid, or even the most 
convenient city; but it is pre-eminently the smart metropolis of 
Europe. And the Americans have found it out. Formerly good 
Americans were saiil to go to Paris after they died; depend upon it 
their souls now migrate to London. 

Inow when 1 say that London is above all things cosmopolitan, I 
do not mean that those who are about to make tlieir bow to London 
societ}^ for the first time must be prepared for any pentecostal 
variety of tongues. Less French is spoken on the banks ot the 
Thames than on the banks of any other great navigable river in the 
western liemisphere. British cosmopolitanism Ehows itself in its 
rapid assimilation of the social ideas of other countries, and in its 
heroic struggle to rise superior to the hampering restiictions of in- 
sular respectability. True, it still possesses its own excellent com- 
mon sense, but even this immense viitue is beguilel by the desire of 
those who possess it to prove that they are without its prejudices. 

London society is thus a society in a state of solution. Some day 
its different elements may crystallize themselves into a definite 
shape, but not yet. If it is partially ruled by the traditions it fights 
against, its very impatience of discipline carries it into the most ex- 
travagant, the most ludicrous excesses;. TUe more it is contom- 
platecl, the more instrurtive and amusing it becomes. It is, in a 
word, with English society a^ it is with En^ish politics. The prin- 
ciples of tradition and discipline are in perpetual conflict with those 
of liberty and the right of private judgment. 

1 have said that London alone of modern capitals possesses a 
regular system ot society. This is because London alone has what 
one may call a social citadel, around which rally those who are in- 
terested, or wish to affect an interest, in supporting it. There are 
in London Whig houses and Tory houses, Radical and Conservative 
hosts and hostesses. But be not led astray by names. The division 
is unnatural and forced. Society, as society, is the common posses- 
sion in London of all who are admitted into it. It is more than ^ 



SOCIETY TN LONDON. 21 

phrase — more than an idea. It is an actualit}'. It lias a real exist- 
ence, and its votaries are animated b}-^ a common {)rinciple. The 
same men and women who, when they are comi)elled to assume a 
political ndc, say, "How can we help our i^arty?" say in their 
social cliaracler, which is the real one, " Row can we keep ourseKes 
to<]jether?" Society is conscious of an identity of interest which 
compacts, with the force of cement, its members into a single cor- 
poration. In Paris we have never had and never shall have any- 
thing of the kind. Successis^e revolutions have robbed us of a coiii- 
mon social center. Political differences assert lliemselves as social 
distinctions, but in England, or rather in London, this is unknown. 
Since, then, there exists a genuine stronghold to defend, it is worth 
taking considerable trouble to defend it. Thus you hare an ex- 
])]anation of the elaborate scheme of dinner hospitalities unknown 
elsewhere, to say nothing of those less serious entertainments which 
the English share with the society of other European capitals. Some 
people may think when they have heard a legislative proposal dis- 
cussed in the House of Commons that the only point at issue is, how 
will it afiect political parties? But society is above parties, and 
what society asks itself is how it will afiect its order. It is this 
orj^anic unity which is one of the characteristics of the polite world 
on the English side of La Manche. 

However well introduced a person may be, however well person- 
ally supported, society in London will not immediately welcome 
liim or her with open arms. Contrast with the Frenchman's first 
visit to jjondon the first visit of the Englishman to Paris. For his 
Parisian friend to taRc the British stranger to the sahii of the Mar- 
quise D., to present him to the Marquise herself, and to obtain his 
presentation by her to the great ladies whom she had assembled 
about her, is, or in happier days was, the efiort of an evening, nay, 
of an hour, but it made his career. He knew almost in an instant 
every one. There was not a house worth visiting in Paris which 
was not open to him forlhwirh. He was a gentleman. His creden- 
tials were good. His presence was agreeable. He knew the right 
people; and whether he began with knowing fifty or a hundred of 
them was immaterial. Some of these advantages the foreisjner who 
is exceptionally well situated may enjoy in visiting England. Once 
the new-comer has fairly established his footing, he will be passed 
on from house to house and, when September comes, from country 
mansion to country mansion. But he must not expect his letter of 
introduction to produce any instantaneous or magical effect. He 
will leave with his card a letter of recommendation at the house of 
a gentleman in Piccadilly, who will casually observe to his wife, 

" My dear, here is M. So and-So with a letter from old . 1 

suppose," and here he will heave a little sigh, " wemust-iisk him to 
dinner. Shall we say the 9lh?" 

" Impossible," his good lady will reply, " we have no place vacant 
then. The earliest day would be the 23d, and, if you think it neces- 
sary, 1 suppose he must come." 

The upshot is that the visitor will receive an invitation to dinner 
on the 28d, that he will present himself at the house of his enter- 
tainer at a quarter-past eight, that he will hi\ one of a company of 
eighteen guests, whose faces are unknown to him, and whose Ian- 



22 SOCIETY IN LONDON". 

gvmge he imperfectly understands, and that he will quit the 
premises of his new acquaintances aoout midnight witnout, unU^ss 
circumstacces are exceptionally favorable, knowing anything more 
of a single individual he has met than before he met them. This, 
1 admit, may be a discouraging commencement; but the stranger 
must not be cast down, and if the impression he has created is fairly 
favorable, his opportunity will come, lie will not, as is frequently 
done in Paris, make the acquaintance of the society of London by 
attending the evening receptions of tine ladies in their drawing- 
rooms, simply because the crushes which were once called kettle- 
drums, and are now known merely as parties, present no oppor- 
tunities of this liind. He will go, of course, to receptions, to show 
that he is asked, to put himself in evidence, and, when he has ceased 
to be a stranger, to meet his fiiends. But he will not go to them to 
make friends. The crowd is too great, the movement too rapid, the 
attendance too brief, to render anything of this sort possible. 

And yet there exists in England a sort of parallel or analogy, so 
far as some of its social uses are concerned, to the old Parisian sa^6>«.. 
It is the afternoon call about the hour of five o'clock tea. Then is 
the time when, if there is anything worth recognizing in the social 
recruit, his friends will find it out. He may be fortunate enough to 
light upon his hostess and her aaughter when ihey are alone. The 
conversation will range round many subjects, and come to a head in 
some proposals. If the days are still short and the weather wintery, 
he may be invited to make one of a party to the play. As summer 
draws near, there will be a suggestion of picnics on the Thames; 
and he will be able to develop mere acquaintance into friendship 
within the picturesque precincts of Hyde Park. Thus, by degrees, 
he will find himself fairly launched. It is of some importance that 
he should have his entree into the St. James's Club. Mr. Gillett 
will receive hmi with open arras into the Bachelors', and if he thinks 
he is worth cultivating, he will ask him to one ot his little dinners, 
at which he seldom entertains less than eight- and-twenty guests. 

London society, which is in some respects the most fastidious, is 
in others the most credulous, the most composite, or the m(>st mixed 
upon the surface of our planet. It is the most fastidious because it 
is the least tolerant of an obtrusive personality. English society 
can pardon anything but egotism and blague. There are many 
clever and amusmg men who have been social failures, who have 
made irretrievable shipwreck, because they have been irrepressible. 
There are individuals who may enjoy a special license, but they 
must be very sure of their ground before they begin to presume 
upon it. Society in London hates lor the most part a man who in- 
sists upon having his presence felt. The reason is that it recognizes • 
in such an one the egotist, and that in the egotist it scents unerring- 
ly the bore. 

Lay, then, this golden rule to heart : Never attempt to be amus- 
ing; never venture into an anecdote; watch how anecdotes are re- 
ceived; liear the comment of your next-door neighbor at dinner 
upon them, and note how he invariably whispers confidentially in 
your ear that he has heard the story a thousand times before. When 
you are a personage in society, then you may affect lo be one; then, 
but not before ; and let any one who is ever tempted to violate this 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 23 

rudimentary maxim of good conduct be sure that it is only the 
membeis ot a coterie, held together hy the ties of an invisible free- 
masonry, who can safely indulge their antics before each other. 
The social genius of the Englisli race* is solemn. Look at the ex 
quisites whom one will encounter in London theaters and clubs, 
known till recently as " mashers/' They aie ripe for any tolly or 
dissipation, but their physiognomy is severity itself. The austerity 
of their manner is relieved by no gleam of fun. Their countenance 
wears a settled look of sullen melancholy. Ihey might, when they 
are not interchanging improper innuendoes with each other, be 
mutes at a funeral; yet, their absurdities notwithstanding, they are 
true to the traditions ot their race. 

Strange, it may well seem, that this society, so self-contained, so 
impatient ot certain forms of folly, is duped with the most extraor- 
dinary facility. It is impossible to enter the most irreproachable 
drawing-rooms in London without meeting these foreigners, of both 
sexes, whose presence is well known to be tabooed in the second- 
rate s^?^/i» of republican Paris. Madame Denise and her daughter 
are droll phenomena to men who know something of Madame 
Denise's antecedents. What is one to say? Is it the simplicity or 
the hospitality of the Anglo-Saxon race which tinds its expression 
in this truly catholic comprehensiveness? Kindly and unsuspect- 
ing thouiih the English are, they would not, 1 believe, welcome, as 
they do, the odd foreigners 1 am now speakmg of unless they could 
boast the very highest authoiity for doing so. England is the chosen 
home of freedom, but not ot independence; and society in London, 
in all it does, or abstains from doing, is, as 1 have already shown, 
absolutely dependent on ihe initiative of royalty. It is indeed so 
large, so overgrown, that it is conscious it would, unless it were to 
accept the guidance of royalty, be without any controlling principle. 
It does, therefore, precisely what royalty, or even those who are 
somewhat remotely connected with royalty, bids it to do. If august 
personaces in commanding positions receive ladies such as Madame 
Denise, and improvised husbands such as M. Denise, society follows 
suit. And yet there are tools who say that tne monarchy in Eng- 
land is in danger! 

Let me give another instance of this sort of thing, which one 
must be prepared indefinitely to meet with in London society. One 
ot the first persons to whom the stranger is likely to be presented is 
a lady, famous for her beauty, whose career has been, to say the 
least, interesting. A few years ago she was unknown in London. 
But she went to a theater by herself. In the next stall to her sat a 

nobleman, the; Earl of , accompanied by the Countess. His 

keen eye was immediately arrested by the loveliness of his neighbor. 
lie offered her his play bill or his opera-glass, entered into conver- 
sation with her, discovered that her husband was yachting in the 
Polar Seas, and that her father was, say, a colonial pi elate. The 
beauteous stianner was staying at an hotel, and had intended re- 
joining her husband, 1 think at Spitzbergen, the next day. The 
kindly and courteous peer expressed a nope that as she was in 
the capital she would stay to see a little more of its society, in 

eighteen hours afterward the Earl and Countess of had called 

upon her. Four-and-twenty hours later she was their guest at diQ- 



24 SOCIETY US' LONDOK. 

ner, and before the week was out she was a personage in London 
society. 

It is inevitable that a society assorted upon these loose and 
fortuitous principles should be curiously miscellaneous, it is 
miscellaneous, however, iu an orthodox manner. The word of 
command must first be given iu the nighest quarters. The advent- 
urer or the adventuress is not admitled into houses really worlh 
entering, unless those whose word is law have set the precedent. 
When that is clone the rest is easy. Socieiy in Loudon will never 
judge for itself it its rulers will relieve it of the responsibility. 
Whatever these do is right. The <Joctrine ot passive obedience, 
which was once the foundation of loyalty to the throne, is now illus- 
trated with unswerving allegiance in the social sphere. Tlie sub- 
ordination of Englishmen to the monarchical principle shows itselt 
on a new plane, but is in reality as rigid as ever, Paradox though 
it may seem, the two chief characteristics of society in London are 
its simplicity and its heartlessness. The former quality is shown 
in other ways than 1 have just described. Society is amused with 
marvelous ease. The smallest ot practical jokes are enough to set 
it in a roar. The slightest eccentricity of demeanor plunges it in a 
paroxysm of laughter. Gossip that is perfectly puerile delights it. 
Any trivial scandal the tale of which is told without point, epigram, 
or even antithesis, is welcomed as the best thing in the world. In 
Paris a certain flavor of wit or humor is expected. There is no 
necessity of anything ot the kind in London. These grown-up men 
and women -who laugh at the recital ot imbecilities and ineptitudes 
are as easily entertained as children. Like children, too, the}' love 
to parade their own vices, and to make themselves out a thousand 
times more wicked than they are. ]SIo society could exisV it it was 
halt as corrupt as the members of London society, to judge from 
their casual talk or from the significance which their comments and 
allusions are mtended to convey. But it is talk only— the lax gar- 
rulity of a race which is still laboriously endeavoring to emancipate 
itself from the fetters of Puritani.>^m. It is Puritanism, it is moral- 
ity, it is religion, it is the sense of duty, wedded to and regulating 
the fever of enterprise, which have made the English the race they 
are. Yet it is these obligations which society in London affects to 
ridicule. 

In what does that which 1 have called the heartlessness of society 
exhibit itselt? Partly in its cynicism, which is, to a large extent, 
an affectation; partly, and far more conspicuously, in its disrespect 
of those conventionalities— in i;s violation of that unwritten law of 
decency and family obligations which \s mcroH((nci in France. Here, 
then, one may see the latent barbarism of the English character be- 
traying itself. A smart lady in London society will dine out aad 
enjoy herselt in any fashion — a perfectly harmless fashion, no doubt 
— that pleases her when her brother or her sister, perhaps even her 
^father or her mother, is stricken with a mortal illness, or is actually 
at the point of death, 1 will give a more definite instance. Some 
lew months ago a nobleman leased his shooting-box in the country 
to another nobleman ot his own kindred. The eldest son of the 
proprietor of the estate happened to die, and the lad's funeral was 
fixed for the same day as that on which a party of fashionable 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 25 

guests was to assemble at the lionse whicli, had he lived, he would 
liave inherited. Nevertiielcss the parly was not put oft, and the 
same train that couveyrd the corpse ol the voiiul; man to liie family' 
vault, whicli was in ihc (;lnirch ol llie estate, then let to his kins- 
man, conveyed also his father, the owner of tiie property, and all 
the f»uests wno were to enjoy themselves on his moors. Tlje party 
had been arrantred bi'lorehand, and in England llie pace at which 
they live is so .[uick that the sorrows ot the sepulcher must yield to 
ihe^conveniencc ot society. 

ISoc-iety in London has the recommendation of supplying some 
gentlemen wiili a e.ireer exactly appropriate lor the display of activ- 
ities that might otlierwise languish for want of employment. Mr. 
Gillett, whose name has been already mentioned, is one of these; 
Mr. Daiison is another. But the most puissant of the group is Mr. 
Kenneth Howard, who has sircceeded Mr. Augustus Lumley as an 
orgauizer-iu-chiet ot society's entertainments. Eacli of these gen- 
tlenien was designed by nature, with a special view to the orna- 
menial needs ot society, as a master of ceremonies. Mr. Lumley, 
young now no longer, wealthy, and the lord of a tine estate, con- 
tinues to take a benevolent interest in society's doings, would 
doubtless give a favorite dowager the benefit of his counsel upon 
any critical occasion, and might even, at a pinch, superintend the 
arrangement ot a cotillon — a species ot enteiprise in which erewhile 
he achieved greater successes than any other European arbiter of 
elegance. Mr. Howard fills Mr. Lumley 's place to perfection, and 
the most anxious and nervous of hostesses has learned from experi- 
ence tliat she may place as implicit confidence in the list of dancing 
men he draws up at a short notice for a ball as in the famous cata- 
logues of his predecessor. Mr. Alfred Montgomery, the very pict- 
ure of an elderlj^ beau, has also rendered substantial service to soci- 
ety's hostesses. In some respecls he is a more noticeable man than 
lie might at first be taken for. One might <^asily suppose him to 
be nothinf; more than a dandy in his decadence. After a very little 
conversation one discovers that he combines with a thorough knowl- 
edge ot the world a conii)rehensive acquaintance with English lit- 
erature as well as a vast repertory of stories. His career has been 
eventful. He has known domestic trouble, and has been rewarded 
for his sufteriugs by non-domestic success. 



CHAPTER IV, 

DIPLOMATISTS AND THEIR HOSTS. 

English diplomatic ofiit;ials and ex-officials. Lord Granville, Sir Charles Dilke, 
Sir Julian Puuncefote. Lord Haniniond, Mr. Villiers Lister. Mr. Philip 
Curr'ie— The (:<>r})s Di])lovi(iti(/H(' : Count Munster, Count Karob'i, M. and 
Madame De Falbe, P>aron Solv.\-ns, the Chevalier Nigra, Mr. Ru.ssell Lowell, 
Count Piper, tlie Marquis (!<■ Casa Laiglesia, M. de Staal, Musurus Pacha, 
Count de Bylaudt— Diplomatic society should be better organized. 

There is no society in London that can be called distinctively 
diplomatic. The Foreign Secretary entertains diplomatists at din- 
ner when speciaj events in whicli they are concerned are taking 
place in the English capital; when, for instance, a treaty for the 



26 SOCIETY IN LONDON". 

navigation of the Danube is being drawn up, or an Egyptian con- 
ference is being held. The wite of the Foreign Secretary receives, 
of course, embassadors and attaches at her State parlies at the For- 
eign Office or at her house; and at these the " diplomatic circle," 
as the newspapers call it, is represented prominently — that is to say, 
there is visible an unusual number of gentlemen accredited to the 
Court of St. James's and decorated with foreign orders. The scene 
is biilliant, but it is not more brilliant than any other of the recep- 
tions at the mansions of English ministers who happen also to be 
no])les of high degree. 

There is, indeed, a club in London— the St. James's — one of the 
best— with a cuisine and cellar of exceptional excellence, to 
which most diplomatists, English or foreign, belong. The St. 
James's Club has thus a diplomatic cachet about it, and tne repre- 
sentatives of all nations find it a convenient locality for dining, 
smoking, and card-playing. It is, however, official as much as it is 
diplomatic. If most perhaps of the Foreign Office clerks and 
undersecretaries belong to it, so, too, do many of ihe clerks ot other 
offices of State, Qotably, the Treasury and the superior departments 
ot the Civil Service generally. The club may be described by the 
English epithet, now much in vogue, smart. It is, more than any 
other establishment of the kind, an international and cosmopolitan 
rendezvous for gentlemen of position and fashion, Jireakfast at 
Voisin'8 any morning you like, and you may be sure that the ma- 
jority of those you meet there, if they are Englishmen, or if they 
have occasion to be in England pretty frequently, have the entree of 
the St James's Club. 

The foreign diplomatist, then, in England is, like the English 
diplomatist, like the English lawyer, politician, or doctor, merged 
in the elements which constitute the general society of London. He 
is to be met with at all the best houses of the capital. At first a 
foreign embassador or attache may find the time hang a little heavily 
on his hands. The dinners of ceremony are unpalatable novelties. 
He sighs for more frequent and less formal intercourse with the fair 
sex. So it was with the Italian embassador on his earliest arrival 
in England, the Chevalier ISigra. But the strangeness soon wears 
off, and English comfort is felt to be no bad recompense for the de- 
ficiencies of the English salon. After a time the dfplomatist who is 
stationed in London is surrounded by a little set of special acquaint- 
ances, and gradually grows to be intimate at paiticular houses. 
There are a few English hosts and hostesses who make it a point of 
lienor to secure at their more select feasts the presence of a leading 
diplomat. The present head of the London Rothschilds, Sir Na- 
thaniel fie Rothschild, who lives in a palace in Piccadilly, is noted 
for his hospitality to foreign embassadors and attaches. Sir Alger- 
non and Lady Borthwick, whose house, formerly the residence of 
the poet Byron, is only a hundred paces distant in the same thor- 
oughfare. Sir Julian and Lady Goldsmid, Lord and Lady Delawarr, 
are also renowned for the cordiality with which they welcome the 
official representatives of foreign Governments. Other persons, 
whom it is needless to name, if they are interested in commercial 
or industrial enterprises in the territory of some remote State, culti- 
vate in a special degree the friendship of that State's ministers and 



^ SOCIETY IX LONDON. 27 

servants in England; and indeed you will soon be able lo form a 
shrewd idta, from tne nationality of the minor toreign diplomats 
whom you meet undei any particular root, in what country the 
wealth or some portion ot it ot their entertainers, wliether they are 
contractors, investors, or speculators, is laid out. 

Lord Granville, who 1 imagine will remain at the head of the 
Foreign Otlice tor some time longer, lives at Carlton House Ter- 
race. Ali Europe knows him by reputation. Very courtly, well- 
bred, and pleasaut to look upon, a little deat, but not so deat as he 
is often supposed to be, and indeed concealing at times a singular 
quickness of hearing under the veil ot-this malady, cautious, wary 
—one might say wily— saying little himself, and preferring to talk 
on any subject rather than on politics or diploniac}'. His manner, 
ways, and appearance are those of the diplomatist ot French com- 
edy. He has narrowly missed being Prime Minister. He was once 
a high favorite at Court, but has compromised that position since 
he attached himself so devotedly to Mr. Gladstone and his tor tunes. 
Although, as you at once see, he has been a man of pleasure, he is 
not prematurely old, and carries his years well. Gout has peremp- 
torily restricted his enjoyment of existence withm narrow limits, 
and has tended to confirm a natural impulse toward indecision. But 
though his judgment is halting, and his reluctance to undertake re- 
sponsibility unusually great even for a Whig— dread of responsibil- 
ity an:t sensitiveness lo public opinion are the besetting sins of 
Whiggism— he still transacts in his own tashion, working by pref- 
erence in his house rather than at his bureau in Downing Street, a 
good deal of business. Lord Granville married a second time some 
years ago a young wife. He has a rising family of boys and girls. 

Two years ago it seemed as if Lord Granville wou]d find at no 
distant date a successor in Sir Charles Dilke. That minister has 
educated himself in a manner peculiarly suitable for the porlfolio 
of Foreign Affairs. He has been a great traveler; he has acquired 
many acquaintances and some friendships at the chief European 
capitals; he was for several years the one Englishman who knew 
Gambetta; he is possessed of a property near Toulon to whicli he 
retires periodically, though not for the same length of lime together 
that he formerly did. Perhaps the place has lost some of its attrac- 
tions, or perhaps the demands of office render more protracted 
sojourns impossible. Add to a clear insight into European ques- 
tions, and into the forces which govern their development, immense 
aptitude tor dealing with details, sanity of judgment, and strength 
of will; add, also, great linguistic acquirements and a decidedly 
good manner — grave though urbane, kindly but cautious— and you 
have no bad material for the composition of an English Foreign 
Minister. 

But, alas! the prospect once so fair has been clouded over. Sir 
Charlek Dilke may be compared to an ardent admirer ot the fair sex 
who has had a disappointment ot heart lo wluch he is unable to rise 
superior. His passion blighted, his hope nipped in the bud. have 
bequeathed him a legacy ot resentment and disgust. He will have 
no more to say, at any rate for the present, to toreign affairs. For 
what happened? it is but three short years ago that Sir Charles 
pilke went to Paris burning with impatience to win the heart ol 



28 SaCIETY IN LONDON". ^ 

the French people to a commerciul treaty. He was like a young, 
enthusiastic, and credulous lover. EJe confided iu M. Gan^betta, be- 
lieved that. Gambetta would do anything tor him, as he would have 
done for Gambetta. Oh, the perfidy ot that man! uh, lor the lond 
expectances of the English Under-Secretary shattered forever! 

Sir Charles Dilke was kept in Paris at the magnificent apartments 
in the Grand Hotel, to which he had been welcomed with the ovation 
due to a plenipotenliary after he has concluded a treaty, for some 
weeks at that season of the year when Paris is most Insupporlable. 
It all came to nolhmg. The Frencli were dead ajrainst free ex- 
change. M. Gambetta had played upon the youug affections of Ids 
English friend. Sir Charles Dilke silently, though not on that ac- 
count the less bitterly, resented the wrong he had sufTered. Hence 
forth he would disbelieve foreign statesmen generally and French 
statesmen in particular. No talk for the present, it you please, of 
replacing Lord Granville; and very soon after his leturo to En>!,lan(l 
Sir Charles Dilke quilted the Foreign Office for the Presidency ot 
the Local Government Board with the determination that he would 
liave nothing', more to do with loreign policy. Since (hen he has 
been as little in Paris, as little indeed out ot England, as possible. 
Whether the wound is irremediable, whether he will remain a 
misodiplomat, as some cruelly treated lovers remain misogynists, to 
the end of the chapter, time will show. 

Yet, though Sir Charles Dilke can not conceal all traces ot an af- 
fliction still recent, he is agreeable, hospitable, and marvelously well 
informed. He drinks no wioe and smokes many cigars. 1 am told 
that he meditates, for the second time, matrimony. For myself 1 
think that Sir Charles Dilke's aversion to the Foreign Office is uot 
invincible, and is only transient. It often happens that when a man 
has been severely defeated in a love affair, jilted by his betrothed, or 
duped by the mistress for whom he had a grand passion, he iiss 
sworn he would, for the future, have nothinir more to say to woman- 
kind, it is a rash vow. The inevitable hour arrives, the destined 
lady appears, and the misogynist yields. Sir Charles Dilke may have 
steeled his heart, and may have turned his soft susceptibilities to 
adamant. But fate is too much for him. In the bitterness of his 
disappointment, and in the full fury ot his wrath, he swore that 
foreign affairs should never tempt him to their embrace again; that 
he would dedicate his future to that chaste ideal ot non-intervention 
which all good Radicals ought to worship. But who shall control 
circumstances? See what England has had to face during the last 
two years — the reopening of the whole Egyptian and ot a large part 
of the Eastern Question. There are no signs that the era of these 
foreign complications is about to close. Non-intervention, abstinence 
from diplomacy, is therefore rapidly becoming just as much out of 
the question to that austere eremite of Radicalism, Sir Charles Dilke, 
as isolation from feminine society is to the man who, living in the 
midst ot his fellow-creatures, can uot subdue the cravings of the old 
Adam for the old or the youug Eve. 

Of the lesser officials ot the Foreign Office there is only one who 
is seen extensively in the guise of an entertainer of diplomatists. Sir 
Julian Pauncefote and Mr. Villiers Lister are both of them gentle- 
men greatly to be esteemed, eminently worthy and capable. The 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 29 

former is a first rate man of business. He is not, indeed, so com- 
pletely in the diplomatic current, so saturated witli the tradition of 
a Foreign Otfice. as Mr. Lister, who is a connection of the late Lord 
Clarendon, and the member of a governin;; and a diplomatic family. 
Sir Julian Pauncefote is even, from the Foreign Olllce point of view, 
a pnrn'nii. He is in the Ollice, but not of it. He knows its 
routine, but he has not felt the contagious force of its genius. He 
is a capital official, but an official who, as his colleagues thinK, 
though Ihey are the hist men in the world to hint so much in words, 
lacks the inspiration of his department. Titularly he is the succes- 
sor of Lord Hammond, who spent the greater portion of halt a cent-, 
nry in the Foreign Office, and who during that lime opened more 
official letters with his own hand than was ever done within a 
similar period by a servant of the English Crown. Lord Hammond 
still lives— a gouty, rather cross-grained and opinionated old gentle- 
man, but agreeable and instruciive when he is not suffering from an 
acute attack of the malady peculiar to British statesmen and 
diplomatists, and happy in the possession of a wife and daughters, 
who are among the best and most amiable women in the world. But 
1 have foi-gotten to mention the name of the Under-Secietai-y of the 
Foreign Ofiice, who, so far as London society is concerned, is in- 
comparably the most prominent of the group — an ubiquitous diner- 
out and a deeply versed and finished dinner-giver. 

Mr. Philip Currie can be a stranger to no one who is acquainted 
"Kith Paris, Florence, or Loudon. He is a true citizen of the world, 
though many of his most admii'able qualities are distinctively British. 
He is now a man of nearly fifty-two years of asie, of a pink and 
white countenance, befitting his innocence, with light, curling hair, 
with a presence undeniably good, and a manner half courtly and 
half contemptuous. Finished man of the world as he is, cynical and 
blase as he may be also, there is still a soitpron of boyish freshness 
about him which is in its way quite charming. You may make a 
long day's journey in London, and in England, and come across 
many varieties of men before you meet a more creditable specinien 
of the English official or the English gentleman than Philip Currie. 

I attribute his merits to a combination of circumstances. Belong- 
ing immediarely to a powerful and opulent commercial family, he 
has inherited tlie best sort of common sense with which the English 
middle class is gifted. His brother is one of the largest partners, 
and the chief manager, of the greatist private bank in the City of 
London. Mr. Philip Currie, had his career been that of banking 
instead of diplomacy, would have acquitted himself equally well. 
As it is, he has brought into diplomacy all thrise qualities which 
would have stood him in such good stead in business. He adds to 
Wm finease oi the diplomatist the practical shrewdness, the grit, of 
the Englishman of business. He knows that his countrymen are, 
above all things, traders, and that the City of London is, in a sense, 
England. There can be nothing visionary in the political or 
diplomatic faith which rests upon a metallic basis. 

Again, Mr. Philip Currie is closely connected with oneof the nlost 
sagacious and not the least aristocratic of Whig families, the family 
of Lord Kimb(!rley; and the Whiggism he has imlibed from these 
relatives makes, in its conjunction with the City ingredients in hig 



30 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

character, an artmired blend. Pro"bab]y his greatest detect and his 
"worst enemy, though it has detracted in no degree from his official 
usefulness, has been a certain voluptuous languor of disposition, 
superinducing something akin to indolence. He is an Epicurean 
of the most comprehensive and, in many respects, retined tastes. 
He has a suburban villa, which is a model in some rooms of the 
very best style of English furniture and decoration, in others of 
Italian ornament. You will observe the same grace and finish in 
everything about him. He may be a little too olficial for some 
people, a little too cynical for others, but he is never either without 
a reason. His manner may be criticised as too much reseaibling 
that of \he dilettante. But there is nothing frivolous or effeminate 
in his views on practical matters. It he is not a statesman, he knows 
what a statesman ought to be, and he is an admirable judge alike of 
the temper of the English people and the extent of English resources. 

Thus tar I have had nothing to say of those who are of some im- 
portance in a sketch of diplomatic society in London, viz., the foreign 
diplomatists themselves. 1 repeat my remark that there is no circle 
in London society which is exclusively diplomatic. Individual em- 
bassadors liave their favorite hosts and hostesses, and are to be seen 
most frequently at certain houses. Thus one Minister, M. Wadding- 
ton, and Madame Waddington, are constant guests at Lady Moles- 
worth's. Her Ladyship knows, and has known for, shall 1 say half 
a century? every one in London or in England worth knowing. 
Never was an acquaintance at once so catholic and so eclectic. 
Statesmen, judges, divines, authors, actors, painters, wits, beauties, 
the rank and file ot men and women of the world— with all the most 
prominent of these she has been upon good terms, has entertained 
them well, and has allowed herself to" be entertained 'by some of 
them in return. She has an inborn aptitude for that most critical 
of social combinations, the London dinner party of from eight to 
twelve people. Any hostess can turn her dining-room into a table 
d'hote, very few can make it the scene of symposia, at once attractive 
for their social ease and impressive tor their social distinction. And 
all this, though it may be said of Lady Moleswoith as of the city 
ot Rome, Exiguis pi'ofecta initiis. 

The German Embassador, Count Mlinster, is, so far as habits and 
tastes are concerned, an Englishman. He enjnj^s to the full the 
pleasures, and he is impregnated with most of the prejudices, of 
the aristocratic order in which he mixes. Connected himself by 
marriage with the Earl of Rosslyn, he is on terms of domestic inti- 
macy with that nobleman. He is also a frequent visitor at the 
houses in London and in the country of a ci clevant EugW^'h Secretary 
of State for Foreign Aflairs, Lord Derby. But wherever you go, 
provided only the social level is sufficiently high, there you will meet 
Count Miinster. Fond ot horses, and a izood judge of them, a fair 
rider, a passable whip, a member of the Four-in-Hand Club whose 
coach is always one of the best turned-out in the park, an industri- 
ous and early-rising fisherman when he happens to be on a visit at 
a country-house through the grounds of wliich there runs a trout 
stream that takes his fancy— Count Mlinster presents also the ap- 
pearance of an English gentleman, and it is only from his foreign 
accent that you would know him not to be an Euglishman born. 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 31 

The Austro-ntingaiian ETr.bassndor to the Court of St. James's, 
Count Karolyi, and his perfectly charming Countess, may be seen 
nowhere to {greater advanlaiie than in ihe mansion of Lord Breadal 
bane, which used to belong to the eccentric Duke ot Portland, 
llarcourt House, in Cavendish Scjuare. The Karolyis indeed go 
everywhere, less because the ('ount is so much appreciated of so 
brilliant, than because the Countess is so popular. The reader may 
remember that one of the first things which Mr. Gladstone did on 
his accession to olhce in 1880 was to address a letter to the Austro- 
Hungarian Embassador to the Court of St. James's expressing his 
regret Ihat he should have spoken disrespectfully of the policy of 
bis Government, it is a fact that this incident vastly improved the 
social position of Count Karolyi, both in Liberal and Conservative 
circles. The Danish Minister and his wife — an English lady well 
known and much liked — Madame de Falbe, may be said to live 
more for society than diplomacy. 

The Chevalier Nigra is justly famous tor the excellence of the 
dinners which he gives to his favored friends, lie is also famous 
for B e7u]f whose gifts are not confined to the cnmne, and who is 
quite a master of the art of lerjcrdemnin. His excellency, when he 
pays a visit to his friends from Saturday to JMonday, is in the habit 
of taking with him his domestic to amuse the company with his 
tricks. 

The Chevalier Nigra belongs to the school of Cavour, and is prob- 
ably the most efficient member of the Italian diplomatic corps. He 
is cool, quiet, and determined; speaks Preuch with a strong accent, 
which, when he so desires it, renders him unintelligible; has a great 
opinion of female influence, and has always employed it with suc- 
cess in his diplomatic career. In France his power with the Em- 
press was the principal factor in the foreign policy of the Empire. 
When transfered to Russia, he immediately contrived to establish 
such relations with certain members of the Court circle amongst the 
fair sex as gave him an authority usually denied to foreign repre- 
sentatives in the Russian capital. Since his arrival in London he 
has elaborated a similar programrnme, to the success of which may 
be ascribed in a great measure the conclusion of the Anglo-lialian 
'alliance. 

The representatives of the Sultan and of the Dutch Government 
have been in London longer than any other members of ihe corps 
diplomat iqiie. Musurus — a quiet-looking little man, with a tran- 
quil, almost seraphic expression ol countenance, giving one the idea 
that he is engaged in the stealthy contemplation of the beatific vision 
— though almost Eufrlish in his habits of ttiought, his testes, as in 
his partialities, and though speaking English well, prefers to talk 
in French. M. de Bylandt speaks English as an Englishman, and 
is in this respect a great coi.trast to the Countess de Bylandt, ft 
clever and well-read woman, but not too easy to understand in con- 
sequence of the peculiarity of her enunciation, whatever the tongue 
in which she may address one. 

In society Count de Bylandt has a gift of agreeable conversation 
and u nervous manner. His dii)lon::atic career has been lon<; and 
successful. As Secretary of Embassy in St, Petersburg he acquired 
^ diplomatic habit ot a Russian Kind, which he intensitied by mar- 



32 SOCIETY IK LONDON. 

riage with a Russian lady belonging to an old Muscovite family. 
Subsequently he was Minister at Constautinople. and, having now 
been for nearly fifteen years Minister in London, is regarded by h'S 
colleagues as an authority upon all matters of form. The opinion 
in which he is held by his own Government,' who find his volu- 
minous dispatches a trifle irksome, is less respectful, and the 
Foreign Office at the Hague is animated by a hope that Count de 
Bylandt will shortly seek repose and cause a much-coveted post to 
be vacant. 

The Spanish Minister, the Marquis de Casa Laiglesia, has also 
been resident for many years in London, and is a familiar and popu- 
lar personage in London society. His career in the English capital 
is better known to most persona from the social than from the 
diplomatic aspect. He has h;id in his day several affairs of the 
heart. His name has been mentioned, rightly or wrongly, in many 
contests of gallantry. But all things come to an end, and the Mar- 
quis de Laidesia has-- not, 1 dare say, without a sigh of regret — 
bidden adieu to the amorous dalliance of his prime. 

Count Piper, the Swedish Minister, is seldom seen in any except 
purely official society. Speaking English with much volubility and 
amusing incorrectness, he is ready to talk on any theme, social or 
political, foreign or domestic, which crops up, Dioll, diverting, 
and Inexhaustibly good-tempered, he scatters cheeriness around 
him, and societ}' in London would be the meriier if it saw more of 
him. 

Just now the polite world is speculating as to the qualities of the 
successor of Mr. Russell Lowell at the United States Embassy. Mr. 
Lowell's retirement will be a greater loss to the liteiaryand intel- 
lectual life of London than to its political or diplomatic circles. 
For lie is above all things a man of letters — the reader and writer of 
books, the master of epigrammatic English, and on the whole the 
best after-dinner speaker in the capital. Summoned from an 
American professorship to diplomacy, he brought with him to his 
new duties none of the stiffness or pedantry of the schoolman. Be- 
yond any of his contemporaries, he has been instrumental in im- 
proving the estimate entertained of Americans, not only by English- 
men, but by the representatives of Europe in England, and indeed 
elsewhere. 

St. Petersburg has recently sent to London a new Embassador in 
M. de Staal, who is winning golden opinions. This was what his 
predecessor never succeeded in d(»ing. The Baron de Mohrenheim 
had the misfortune to spread, wherever he went, a sense of ennui. 
He was accused of having caused Mr. Gladstone's illness a couple of 
years ago, while he could never see Lord Granville without predis- 
posing that illustrious statesman to an attack of the gout, 

M. de Staal, noted for his correctness and courtesy, was formerly 
an official attached to the stall of Goitschakoft (brother of the Chan- 
cellor), while in command of the Military District of Warsaw. 
With Gortschakoff he subsequently became more intimately 
associated by his marriage with his daughter, a lady whose charms 
of conversation are generally recognized. M. de Staal has the rep- 
utation of being safe and cautious, and, since the death of his wife's 
uncle and the Chancellor, has remained on confidential terms 'svithi 



SOCIETY IN- LONDON. 33 

his succcssoi at the Russian Foreign OlTice. M. de Giers. He is 
tiiveu to hospitality, and, in conjunction with IMadamc ile Staal, 
bids fair to achieve a social success in London. So far as his 
diplomatic action is concerned, he may be trusted quietly to main- 
tain the traditions of his country's diplomatic service. 

Let me conclude these remarks with a word or two about Haron 
Solvyns, the Belgian Minister. His predecessor, IM. Van de Weyer, 
was to all intents anil purposes an Euglisliman. Very nearly the 
same may be said of the present representative of the Belgian Gov- 
ernment. Ile spenks English as an Englishman, and he judges at 
least as correctly of Englisli character and of the currents of political 
thoughts as the most ilispassionate Briton. 

That the position oj diplomacy in England and the character of 
what I have, for the sake of convenience rather than of accuracy, 
called diplomatic society, should be v.-hat it has been representea as 
being, is not strange. The English carry their insularity into 
everything. Even the public men seem to think that as their coun- 
try is divided by the sea from the rest ot' the world it is of no par- 
ticular importance to them to have any intimacy with foreigners. 
Thus society in London welcomes after a frigid fashion the Minis- 
ters of foreign Powers, treats them well, and entertains them roy- 
ally. But it does no more. 1 do not think it is very wise in its 
generation. English pnliticians might derive greater benefit than they 
look for l\y recognizing in eml)asfadors and attaches, not only 
foreign officials to whom courtesy is due, but men who might be 
useful in establishing between England and the rest ot Europe a 
sort of personal rap2)ort which is surely at this time of day greatly 
to be desired. 



CHAPTER V. 

SOME OF society's SETS. 

Ladies Cowper, Northampton. Marian Alford— Lord and Lady Bath— Aristoc- 
racy and plutocracy— Jews: Sir Nathaniel de Rothschild, Messrs. Leopold 
and Alfred de Rothschild, Baron Ferdinand Rothschild, the Oppenheims and 
Bischoffsheinis— Germans in London — Americans in English society — How 
tlie new blood in societj-'s veins works— Morals and convei-sation— Society's 
chartered libertines. 

Overgrown and mixed as Loudon society is, there are in it two 
or three small and exceedingly exclusive sets, the ladies and jrenlle- 
men composing wh oh, if they occasionally mingle with the outer 
•world, never tolerate the presence amongst themselves of any one 
who does not belong to their number. Lady Sefton, Lady Cowper, 
Lady Marian Alford, Lady Northampton, and Lady Pembroke are 
the representatives ot coteries ol this kind, rigidly barred against all 
outsiders. Lady Marian Alfoid, a devoted as well as a very agree- 
able and accomplished hostess of royalty, is hardly ever to be met 
with save in her own houf-e. Lord and Lady Bath have little in- 
tercourse with tl)0?e of their fellow-creatures who move on a lower 
plane. They receive in London and at Longleat a chosen and lim- 
ited circle ot friends. They are finished and favorable specimens 
of the English nobility, patrician to the tips ot tneir finger-nails. 
Lord Bath, with his frigidity and hauteur, mifjht be iLe original ot 
2 



Si SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

a conventional portrait of an English peer. If his youth and early 
manhood were a.e;itateci by occasional indiscretions, he has long since 
bid adieu to all follies, and has settled— one might almost say trozea 
— down into the very exemplar of an immaculate, unemotional, self- 
possessed British aristocrat. He has had, too, his flirtations with 
Liberalism, and has coquetted M'ilh Mr. Gladstone. But this, again^ 
is an allair of the past, and one may tiulhfully state, for the satis- 
faction of all whom it concerns, that he is to-day as unbending and 
nan ow minded a Tor}' as he is a blue-blooded peer. Only contrast 
with these unrelenting inelastic cliques the more light-hearted and 
catholic circles, where enjoyment is the first thing sought after, and 
where folly is not despised because it is folly, in which the Hard- 
wickes and Dangans move. 

The scale on which London society exists is unmanageally huge. 
It therefore lacks unity; it is a chaotic congeries of sets. Thereare 
higher grades in it and lower grades. There are certain houses and 
hosts who constitute centers round which the social atoms vrUy. On 
the other hand, the instances just given are almost the only ones, 
which English society affords of equivalents of the old nobility of 
the Faubourg tSt. Germain, the old Catholic aristocracy of France 
or Italy, who will have nothing to say to the newer f-ocial grades. 
For the rest, there are a few genuine social leaders. There are in- 
numerable pretenders of the pettiest kind to social leaderstnp. It 
is impossible, and it would be uninteresting even if it were possible, 
to pass all or even a majority of these in review. 1 shall only aim 
at piesenting the reader to some of the chief personages whom it is 
important he or she should know, and at indicating the principal 
forces which sway the social m:iss. 

Of these the chief is wealth. English society, once ruled by an 
aristocracy, is now dominated mainly by a plulocrac3^ And this 
plutocracy is to a large extent Hebraic in its composition. There 
is no phenomenon more noticeable in the society of London than 
the ascendency of the Jews. Exception may be taken to this state- 
ment. 1 may be told that the chosen race exercise no patticular 
power, and that there is a great deal of excellent society in Fugland,. 
and for that matter in London, where Jews are unknown or are 
rarely seen. But in that kind of society which is known as 
"smart" you will soon discover that the Israelites are the loids 
paramount. 

The reason is not tar to seek. It is to be found first, in the in- 
creased power attaching to the principle of money, as distinguished 
from the principle of birth; and secondly, in the initiative of the 
Prince of Wales. The Heir Apparent is, as 1 have already ex- 
plained, the king of the social sysiem of London, just as much aa 
the Queen is the constitutional monarch of the realm. His Koyal 
Highness regards the best class of Hebrews with conspicuous favor. 
In ihat, as in other matters, he sets a fashion. The innumerable 
host ot his satellites follow his example, and bow the knee before 
the descendants of the tribes. \ou may say that tlie same thing 
may be witnessed elsewhere than in England. Possibly; hut no- 
where, 1 think, to precisely the same degree. 

In London the Rothschilds are, to a great extent, be it again said, 
by favor of the Prince of Wales, a race ot social potentates. That 



SOCIETY I.\ LO^DOX. 35 

they are commercial potentates in the city of London, as they are in 
sundry cilies of the Continent, who needs to l)e told? You may 
hear that there is no member of the English firm of Kothschild, 
"Whose mercantile palace is New Court, ot commanding ability. If, 
however, the linancinl genius of the old Baron f^ionel has not de- 
scended in its plenitude to each of his sons, eacli is clever beyond 
the aveiafie, while the accumulated traditions of generations and 
the ripe experience of their chiefs of departments" are guarantees 
against any serious mistakes. 

It IS. so far as the rjothschilds themselves are concerned, a species 
of trinity, the first person of which is Sir Nathaniel, the second ]\Ir. 
Alfred, and the third JVIr. Leopold de Rothschild. The baronet is 
the supreme head of the establishment, occupying the first place at 
the family tribunal, receiving visitors, and treated with marked 
deference l)y his two brotheis. Yi>u will find him, at first, a gen- 
tleman of curious manner. iJe is so preoccupied by the cares of 
business, he is so habituated to the exercise of authority, that he can 
spare little thought for the amenities of life, and he is not so much 
intolerant of contradiction by others as fond of contradicting others 
himself. But this is merely one of the superficial idiosyncrasies of 
the man. A contradiction with him means no more than an inter- 
rogation with you. It is only the way in which he puts a question. 
Instead of asking on what evidence your assertion rests that the day 
is fine or wet, he considers it the more effectual to meet your state- 
ment that it is wet or fine with a point-blank denial. In this fashion 
he hopes to elicit your reasons, to put you on your mettle, to compel 
you to retract your declaration, it it is hasty and ill considered, or 
1o demonstrate that it is based" upon testimony entitled to respect. 
People who make " Natty's " acquaintance for the first time may 
be forgiven if they conceive the idea that he is disposed to be im- 
perious, overbeailug, and harsh. There could be no greater mis- 
take He is not any one of these things. He is, on the contrary, 
when his intere<^t or regard is enlisted, kind, considerate, sympa- 
thetic, a generous and loyal friend. 

His two brpihers discharge, respectively, parts essential to the 
•economy of New Court. The j^oungest, Leopold, is occupied with 
(he mechanical minutiie of the business. In the city his vocation 
appears humble, and he him.'^elf little more than a drudge. Outside 
the city he is a person ot importance, a man ot sport and pleasure, 
a member of the Jockey Club, an owner of race-horses and of a 
modest establishment'iu Buckinghamshire. The second of the three 
Rothschild brothers has functions, as he has a physiognomy, alto- 
gether unlike either of his two brothers. He is light ot complexion, 
while they are dark, with tawny hair and drooping mustache of the 
same color and cut known as the Dundreary. He bestows much 
attention on the graces of manner. His hospitalities in London and 
in the country are upon an elaborate scale. The Prince ot Wales is 
frequently amongst his visitors, and no opportunity is wanting to 
enable him to form an accurate idea of the opinion held by the privi- 
leged or official classes in English society. Add to this that the 
Rothschilds in London have at their disposal alittle sirmy of brokers 
aDd touts in the city, a choice detachment of politicians and finan- 
ciers, whether they do or do not belong to the public service at the 



3G SOCIETY IK LOJSL>OK. 

West End; bear in mind, loo, that they receive early iufoimatioD 
from their kinsmen and correspondents in every part ot the earth of 
what is happening or is likely to happen, and you will not be sur- 
prised to know that New Court is the abode of power. 

The family genius of the Rothschilds shows itself equally in the 
understanding they maintain amongst themselves and the relations 
they establish with all those who can be useful to them. It is only 
natural that a house divided as the Rothschilds are into branches, 
each blanch being a separate dj'^nasty, should have its own little 
jealousit'S. There could be no more solid monument to their 
shrewdness and sagacity than that they should not sufter these jeal- 
ousies to hold them apart at critical moments when union is strength. 
Noi do they choose their friends and agents outside themselves with 
less discrimination or treat them with less of wise generosity and 
forbearance. They know exactly whom to select for their purpose^ 
and once having made their choice, they are loyal to it. Many men 
are indebted to the Rothschilds for their fortune. Ko one who baa 
once placed their trust in them, and whom they have found it worth 
their while to trust, can reproach them with having deserted him. 

There is a fourth member of the Rothschild family, himself hav- 
ing nothing to do with the business in New Court, or with any de- 
partment ot the Rothschild business in any other capital, and yet 
largely instrumental in extending the influence and popularity, and 
in re-enforcing the dignity of the great hout^e: this is Baron Ferdi- 
nand Rothschild, by birth an Austrian, by process of naturalizatioa 
an Englishman. His role in existence is principally ornamental. 
Like his kinsmen, he is possessed of a palace in that portion of Pic- 
cadilly which may be called the Rothschilds' quarter. Be has also 
a magnificent chateau in that part ot the county of Buckin£:ham 
which the Rothschilds have practically annexed, though, with char- 
acteristic caution, their actual investments in land are much smaller 
than is generally supposed. Here he receives more or less through- 
out the whole year, and especially during the summer months tor 
two or three days at a time, whole cohorts of fashionable and dis- 
tinguished guests. It is a real palace of ait; a superb domicile of 
decorative treasure; a paradise for the connoisseur and the vij-tuoso. 
All the Rothschilds are collectors, and Baron Ferdinandis conspicu- 
ous among them. 

The Oppenheim and Bisclioffsheim establishments are two of the 
other chief monuments which London affords to the Hebraic as- 
cendency. There is, however, a marked distinction between these 
families. Mr. Oppenheim—" H. O.," as you may hear him famil- 
iarly called in New Court and in other circles where he is intimate 
— has completely merged himself in the society ot Englishmen. 
Himself a man ot singularly agreeable and even winning'manners, 
he married one of the cleverest, prettiest, and best- born of Irish- 
women; he inhabits and has beautified incredibly the mansion in 
Brutou iStreet, which belonged formerly to Lord Granville and Lord 
Carnarvon. On the other hand, Mr. and Mrs. Bischoffsheim are to- 
all intents and purposes foreigners. Naturalized and acclimatized 
to England and London they are ; but they have never become com- 
pletely amalgamated with the social mass of which they form a 
part. It is true they entertain, and are entertained b}', the highest 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 37 

and the smartest personages in England; but Mr. BischolTsheim, a 
Dutchman by birth, is as little ot an Englishman aa his brother 
Charles, that most confirmed of all Parisian boulevardier.s. ]Nor is 
tiiere more ot the Briton in Mrs, Bischollsheim. A Viennese by- 
origin, she is a bold, successful, gracious woman of the world ; very 
handsome, and wiih the eye of a general for social combinations and 
maneuvers. Her attitude may indeed remind one of that of a for- 
eign commander in petticoats in possession ot a conquered country, 
and placed there for the exclusive purpose of holding down its iu- 
hfibitants. She does not, perhaps, in her heart, greatly love the En- 
glish race, tshe fetes and pets them it necessary with beniguit}' and 
with magnificence; but, unless 1 am mucli mistaken, her sentiments 
are those of the general who, by dint of consummate cleverness, has 
won a supreme triumph, and whom victory enables to be generous, 
rather than ot the liostess ot Loudon society who is to the manner 
born. She is an excellent motlier, and dresses to perfection. As 
her children are admirably brought up, so are her toilets in the 
best taste. Indeed, botli .Sirs. Bischoffsheim and JNlrs. Oj)penheim 
have more influence upon fashion in temiume costume than any 
two other ladies resident iu London, and as regards modes are six 
months in advance of their rivals. 

The second feature to which, in my attempt to present a trust- 
worthy chart ot society in Loudon, 1 should draw attention is the 
ascendency of the Teutonic element. The social influences of Jews 
and Germans run in parallel, often in converging, streams, and are 
frequently centered in the same persons. But there are some Ger- 
' mans, who are exceedingly powerful in London, who are not Jews. 
Just as Great Britain is now sufifering from an invasion of Germans 
^ as formidable in its way as that which France experienced in the 
Great War — an invasion whicU substitutes German clerks and law- 
. yers, German merchants and big and small tradesmen tor English; 
which supplants English by German barristers — so in societylhere 
are opulent Teutons who, having made large fortunes in the United 
States or in the colonies of England, have settled in London, and 
exercise their supremacy over a graduallj" extending area. 

Every grade in English life, from the royal family to the domes- 
tic servant, is leavened by the German element. A few statistics 
will show the force of this statement. Ot the 250,000 Germans in 
England to-day at least two-fifths live in the metropolis. The Ger- 
man consulate estimates the total at 70,000; but it one reckons Ger- 
^ man Austrians and German Swiss, the aggregate of Teutonic Lon- 
doners can not fall short ot 100,000; and one must never forget that 
many ot these are married, and that their children probably number 
50,000. 

To depart for a moment from the society ot the West End, you 
will discover much crime, more miser}', and infinite degradation at 
the East End, occasioned, first, among the English workpeople, sec- 
ondly, among themselves, by the influx ot Germans. Thus there 
are some 5000 tailors of German birth east of the Bank of England 
'who swell the ranks of an industry' which without them would be 
more than choked. It is the same with every calling in the British 
capital, whether in high life or low. Germans elbow Englishmen 
in all directions, underselling them in commerce, and reducing the 



38 SOCIETY IN" LOXDOX. 

increment of the wnge-earning classes to a minimum which barely ! 
suffices to keep starvation from their doors. It is a startling fact 
that in no city in the world, Berlin a; one excepted, are there so many ! 
destitute Germans as in London. 

Fifty years ago things were very different. The German was 
then only a casual visitor to our shores, and the German language 
was despised by English scholars. But the neglecteil idiom of the 
fatherland became a general and favorite study immediately after 
the marriage of the queen with a German prince, and to-day Goethe 
and Lessing aie as familiar to some English people as Carlyle, Lyt- 
ton, or Scolt is to the German. 

As with literature, so with every other profession and phase of 
the national existence. Music, art, politics, finance, commerce soon 
began to feel, and stiU feels, to an ever-increasing extent, the influ- 
ence of German culture and resource. In English finance, Ger- 
many is represented by men of whom 1 have already spoken. Una 
of the ablesi men in the House of Commons, Mr. Goschen, is a Ger- 
man; so are Mr. Schreiber and Baron Henry de "Worms. Mr. Max 
MuUer is only one of a host of German professors in England. 
Music claims many eminent German composers, such as Halle, 
Kichter, Meininger, Joachim, Bonnawitz, Strakosch, Menter. Since 
the Franco-German War there has been an unwonted tendency on ^ 
the part of the Teuton in every quarter of the world to assert his '" 
nationality; and though in English society he is respected and wel- 
comed, m English commercial and professional life he is creating a 
scare by the manner in which he is displacing the sons of the soil. 

Not less remarkable than the social m-ganization and authority of 
the children of Israel and of the fatherland is the place which 
Americans have won for themselves in the social economy of the 
English capital. Between the tactics of the Hebrew and the subject 
of the United States there is a certain similarity; each commences 
his operations by establishine: firmly a center and a base. Now it 
may be a connection secured by marriage with a great house, now 
a friendship with those in social or political power. The Americans 
of both sexes, if, like the Jews, they have their international and 
tribal jealousies, seldom tail to combine as against the Briton. En- 
glishmen and English w^omen are the opponents against whom they 
naturally range themselves, and to overcome whom is the supreme 
triumph. The American, once he or she has got a foothold in 
society, never voluntarily relinquishes, and is seldom violently dis- 
lodged from, it. And the Americans are gregarious; they hunt, not '* 
merely in couples, but in little packs. 

The fair Yankee has no sooner made a conquest and led an En- 
glish aristocrat to the altar than she commencep immediately to con- . 
sider what she can do for her compatriots with the leverage in her 
hands. She has sisters or cousins as beautiful as herself, and she 
feels all the pride of conquest in imiucing English lovers to bend 
the knee to them and to pass under the transatlantic yoke. British 
fathers and mothers may protest, but the young Englishman, if 
there is anything which renders him at all eligible when once he is ■ 
enmeshed in the toils of la belle Americaine, never, 1 think, escapes 
from tkem, or never, 1 should perhaps rathei* say, shows any desire 
to do so. 



SOCIETY I^' LUNDOX. 39 

Much ma}' be said iu favor of the American lady who is now one 
of the reigning princesses of English society. She is otteu pretty, 
never mercenary. She has tor ilie most part some wealth herself, 
and prefers infmilely to weallh in her husbaiid position, wit, intel- 
lect. She is also seldom lucking iu humor ana in conversational 
skill. Allogelher she is an acquisition to society, though her in- 
dependence, her impatience of restraints, and especially iier inces- 
sant eflorts to advance l)y matrimonial alliances or othenvise I lie iii- 
teresL of her countrywomen, may sometimes i)rove fertile in 
mischief. 

One of the reasons why the fair Americans of London society are 
so much in request, and are8oconspicuou»at such august functions 
as embassadors' dinners, is, that lliey are for the most part accom- 
I»lished linguists. The greater portion of their life has been spent on 
the continent of Europe. Their Frencli, Geiman, and Italian are 
infinitely better than those ot the ordinary educated Englishwoman. 
Thus tliey can play their partin thecouversaiion at the most cosmo- 
politan and panglot of feasts. 

Everywhere in France and in Germany politicians and diplomatists 
are found wedded to American wives. That, perhaps, may be to a 
large extent because these wives are heiresses. English society, 
being wealthier, has not felt in the same degree as society in France 
and Germany the eflects of their wealth; but it has felt in a greater 
degree than the society of other capitals the effects of their social 
talents, has been brightened by their vivacity, and illuminated with 
their gayety. Finally, the lair American has, like the representa- 
tives ol the Hebrew race, been largely benefited by the approval of 
royalty. The Fi ince of Wales is an habitual worshiper at American 
shrines, and my reader may perhaps, before the London season of 
1885 is over, have the opportunity ot meeting his Royal Highness at 
a dinner-party, every lady present at which comes from the great 
republic of the \Vest. 

Change breeds love of change, and society in LoKt-lon, having 
taken to its bosonr the exotic novelties here specified, seeks to in- 
dulge its passion tor novelty in a host of olker wa3'S. It craves 
perpetually tor fresh sensations, for nc^" features, for anything that 
is a little out ot the common. ]\Iark now how this in: pulse expresses 
itself. Jews, Germans, antl Americans are tke new blood intro- 
duced into English society-'s veins. That circumstance is to be le- 
g'lrded as the assertion of a general principle. But you will see this 
principle illustrated in a more specific manner and upon a different 
scale. For instance, there is a lady well known iu London society 
who lives in a street between Cuvendish Square and Regent's 
Park, and who, inspired by the prevailing passion for novel and 
sensational efl^ects, has turned her drawing-room, and at the hour of 
luncheon her dining-room, too, into a lendezrous of curiosities. 
There is another lad}-^ of the same sort, whose house is at no great 
distance, who is even more devoted to second-rate celebrities and 
pinclibeck beauties, and who, next to a Radical statesman, adores 
an actress with a history, or a married lad}' on whom august person- 
ages in remote regions are reported to have doted. She has her ad- 
mirers, at a decorous distance be it understood, amongst all parties, 
all sects, all religions. She welcomes impartially to her roof Tories 



40 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

and levolutionists, bishops and ballet girls, or, if cot exactly ballet 
girls, young ladies wbose faces are as well known from their ap- 
pearance on the burlesque stage as from Iheir photographs in the 
shop windows. 

] do not know whether London is to te visited in the course of 
the coming summer by any royal savage from Africa or Asia. If 
so, he is sure to be as much in request at houses of the type 1 now 
speak of as ihe jetine premiei' in light comedy who happens to be 
for the moment the vogue, and his wife who is the substantial em- 
bodiment of all matronly virtues, and who, even as certain soi-disant 
negro minstrels never perform out of Lt udon, takes good care to 
acquaint the world that she never goes anywhere unaccompanied hy 
her husband. 

This notoriety-hunting, this droll mixture of nobles and nihilists, 
of the very flower ot respectability with Bohemians whose celebrity 
is the creation ot yesterday, is less amusing than might be expected. 
Enter the apartment in which this droll assembly is collected, and 
you will find that you are in an atmosphere of social constraint. 
The Tory plutocrat tries to make himself agreeable to the com- 
munist, but carefully keeps at a little distance as one who is afraid 
of his pockets being picked. The hostess herself, as she looks 
around, betrays signs ot misgiving at the experiment in which she 
is enfrage3, or, it may be, is agitated by apprehensions that the 
ornaments which lie scattered about her drawing-rcom are less safe 
than usual. 

Now, thoueh there is upon these occasions and in such establish- 
ments as 1 am describing a great blending of elements, there is no 
real fusion of them; it is a rude and undigested mass. Society in 
its fierce appetite for novelty may be compared to the greedy and 
famishing eater who bolts anything on which he can lay his hands, 
but does not assimilate the various morsels. The aliens, the mon- 
strosities, the notorieties, who are very often nonentities, of both 
sexes, invited for the sake of effect, are looked at askance. They are 
treated like animals in a cage. At the Zoological Gardens you are 
requested not to approach too close to the bars, behind which is the 
fractious monkey or the untamable tiger. Society applies that rule 
to its intercourse with those whom it attecls to welcome as a relief 
from its own monotony. 

There are some ladies in London who make it a point to invite at 
least one writer of repute to their week-day, and an actor or two of 
standing to their Sunday, dinner-parties. You can always recog- 
nize the social outsider from his air of isolation. Perhaps he is 
looked at, perhaps he is ignored, he is no more one of the convives, 
unless he sings, or plays, or recites, than is the butler or the page- 
boy. To speak the truth, London society in its anxiety to secure 
prophylactics against boredom has run into a dangerous excess, and 
there are some at least who are beginning to doubt whether the 
remedy is not worse than the disease. But is that possible? The 
actors and actresses, impostors and impostresses who feebly twinkle' 
in the social firmament, at least help to diversify its appearance. 
If these aie not very entertaining they are at least harmless. Society 
does not suffer from its contact with them, and if any one is injured 
by the arrangement it is the gentlemen and ladies, of a sphere which 



tJOClETV IN LONDON. 41 

is not tluU of society, who are more or less intoxicated by tlie influ- 
ences brought to bear upon them, and who occasionally make them- 
selves ridiculous by burlesquing tlie demeanor ot their patrons. 

Let me point out one or two more aspects of this mania which 
has possessed society in London for the bizarre and the unfamiliar. 
So terrific had the ravages ot ennui and the spleen become that ere 
yet these queer couibinations in drawinii-rooms were devised En- 
glish society was resolved to do sometliiug desperate. It occurred 
10 it that it would at least be a change to ignore^ when there seemed 
any possibility of ignoring, tlie distinction bet^^en virtue and vice. 
1 do not mean to say that it deliberately and with one accord de- 
throned virtue from its pedestal. The idea which suggested itself 
was, that people branded with the epithet of vicious might at least 
possess the viitue of contributing to the general fund of amusement. 
It was therefore determined by way of experiment to grant an 
amnesty to a certain class of social oftenders— to continue to admit 
them to the chosen places ot society it the scandals in which they 
had been involved were not of a very flagrant character, or it hap- 
ly they had been forgotten. 

So successful did this prove that the ethical relaxation which was 
the leading idea of the experiment has been permanently established. 
Society, finding that it was less dull in pioportion as it was more 
tolerant, resolved to carry the viitue ot Christian charity and for- 
giveness to an extreme. 

But here 1 must warn the stranger against committing an unpar- 
donable mistake. Do not suppose that the conversational license, 
which society in London sanctions and stimulates, is indiscrimi- 
nately allowed to any one who chooses to claim it. You must be 
a chartered libertine in the possession of a certificate duly given to 
you by society first. Almost auythino; may be said; alniost any 
story, however risquee, may be told; almost any allusion, however 
delicate, may be ventured on — if the person venturing upon it has 
received, so to speak, the necessary commission from the right 
authorities. Two things are indispensable. One, that the lady or 
gentleman indulging in this lively vein should know the idiosyn- 
crasies of his company; the other, that he should be known by them 
— known, that is, as Men vu in high places. And before even the 
privileged individual can dare all this with impunity he, or she, 
must be thoroughly versed in that jargon and eirgot which in smart 
society pass for conversation; must have acquired the right ot call- 
ing a good many of his liiends and acquaintances by their Christian 
names; must be initiated into all the mysteries of high lite; in a 
word, must be somebody. 

The audacious pavveniL who, on the strength of a casual or super- 
ficial acquaintance with tlie customs and chatter ot society, thinks 
to win a reputation by transgressing the limits ot decorum, by mild 
sallies ot irreproachable humor, or even by the jests which gentle 
dulness ever loves, will soon be reminded of his mistake. There is 
in these matters, as in others, an inexorable order, to violate which 
is fatal. Society ruthlessly ostracizes anything like unwarranted 
familiarity, it may be compared to a family party. Its members 
have been brought up with the same traditions and in the same 
curriculum. They are bound together by that identity of sentiment 



42 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

or pursuit which comes from the associations of school, college, or 
regiment, politics or clubs, official, diplomatic, or military life. 
Much is permitted to those united by this community of experience 
or occupation. But society resents peremptorily and punishes piti- 
lessly any act of intrusion or presumption on the part ol tliose who 
have not made their social footing good, or who are not furnished 
with the due credentials. 

. It has often occurred to me that society in London, or that partic- 
ular section of society which is the brightest, the most diverting, 
and which maKes itself most heard of, resembles an Agapemone. 
The relations existing between the blithe and joyous persons of 
whom tbis household consists may all be the most curious imagina- 
ble; husbands and wives may all be a little mixed; but then though 
there is fusion there is no confusion. They understand each other 
so well. They have tacitly agreed to enjoy themselves according 
to their own taste. " Fay ce que voudras ' is their motto. There 
was a time when the upshot of it all would have been elopenrents, 
duels, the breaking-up of homes, and Heaven only knows what else. 
That sort of thing is sneered at by society to day as obsolete, melo- 
dramatic, childish. The dominating idea is not the cultivation of 
virtue, but the prevention of scandal. Every one, society argues, 
has a clear interest in suppressing anything which miglit lead to so- 
cial distuibance. Externally, therefore, the proprieties must be 
respected. No handle must be given which the profane vulgar may 
seize upon to society's detriment. If things, wrong in themselves, 
are to be done, in Heaven's name let them be done quietly and de- 
cently. H the world will talk, let the lie direct be given to its base 
assertions and rumors by presenting to the public a front of social 
decorum and unity. Ladies and gentlemen, as 1 have said, have 
entered into a tacit and rational agreement. Let them tlieiefore be 
unabashed. They have no thought of pursuing each other into the 
divorce court, and so they take every opportunity of appearing in 
public as if conjugal infidelity could not bo dreamed of, much 1. ss 
exist. When, for instance, an intimacy tliat may be perhaps a trifle 
equivocal has been developed between two or three households, the 
gentlemen and ladies concerned, by way of dispelling suspicion, and 
rebuking the comments of ignorance and malice, make up a party 
tor the play and appear together in the orchestra stalls. 

The real significance of this intetesting phenomenon is the extreme 
sensitiveness of the ladies and gentlemen prominent in London so- 
ciety to the public opinion of their infeiiors, and their loyal attach- 
ment to the well-being of society itself. Periodically they are 
tioubled with vague alarms that iheir social organization is in some 
danger trom outside attacks. They catch the echoes of popular 
disapproval at their doings, which, when any scandal occurs, find 
expression in the newspapers read Dy their social inferiors. Offenses 
will come, but woe unto him or her by whom they come; and soci- 
ety regards as, in some soit, an enemy and a traitor to itself, the 
man or woman who puts it openly to the blush. Let all things by 
all means be done decently and in due order; that is society's mot- 
to; and those who do not obey it are held to have introduced a toe 
into the camp. On the whole, the public opinion of society on itself 
may be defined as the inarticulate utterance of the apprehension 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 43 

with wbicii society is inspired by the actiuil or possible censures of 
the common herd. 

There is something curious, and even touchinj:, in the tenacity 
witli whicli society in Loudon clings to remnants ot respectability — 
in which it is always assuring itself that, however hostile appear- 
ances may seem, it is in reality thoroughly moral at heart, and in 
which it resjionds to atiy appeals that may be made to its piety and 
its virtue. No other nation in the world possesses this morbidly de- 
veloped self-consciousness. Frenchmen and Freuchwonien may be 
as virtuous, or the revtrse ot virtuous, as Englishmen and English- 
women; but with liiem the morality or immorality is assumed. It 
is taken lor granted; it is not talked about. It is as much a matter 
of course a? the features ot the countenance. 1 should say that in 
England the most respectable, the most absolutely blameless of 
ladies, love to discuss the contrasts which society contains between 
vice and virtue, and to lo}', in the purest spirit couceivablt, with 
topics of a questionable kind. To sum up, Loudon society is in a 
constant state of moral valetudinarianism, which is not a conclusive 
sign of moral health. It protests a little too much that it is ethic- 
ally robust not to suggest the suspicion that there may be something 
organically wrong. 

Beware above all things, and at all times, of jumping to the con- 
clusion that societ}' in London is anything like as lax in its observ- 
ance of ethical laws as you will hear it is. Ladies and gentlemen 
treat each other wiih an easy abandon which may seem to imply the 
absence of respect either for themselves or for each other. You 
iray also fancy that they impute to each other peccadilloes and 
olienses of which not only the Hebraic Decalogue but the English 
law takes cognizance. That is a peculiarly English trait, and you 
must not overrate its significance. Self-disparagement is a national 
weakness ot the English race, jtossessing kindred on one side to the 
pride that apes humility, and on the other to that cynical indiffer- 
ence boin of the stolidity of the Briton. 

Theie is scarcel}'^ anything indigenous to his land which the En- 
glishman does not in turn abuse, whether it be his climate or his 
nichitecture, the physical condition ot the streets of his metropolis 
in bad weather, or their moral condition in all weathers. Society- 
would have too little to talk about, it it did not burlesque and ex- 
aggerate its pleasant vices. AVhen one considers how much scandal, 
even though it be shortlived, any serious deflection from the straight 
path of virtue excites; how much preparation, moreover, it involves; 
the comparative absence, in a word, ot the opportunities of evil- 
one may perceive immediately that London societj'- could not by any 
possibility be half so incorrect as it loves in casual conversation to 
paini itself as being. My concluding advice to the stranger, there- 
fore, is to abstain trom presuming — t say not in deed merely, but in 
word — on that disregard ot the sacred laws of hearth and home 
which the unreflecting listener to the talk of English drawing-rooms 
and dinner-tables might suppose to be the characteristic of the in- 
teresting country and capital he may be about to visit. 



44 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 



CHAPTER VI. 

SOCIETY IN TOWN AND COUNTRY. 

The Turf and the Stock Exchange— The Duke of Beaufort— The Duke of 
Portland— Sir George Chet\A'ynd— Sir Frederick Johnstone— Lord Rose- 
bery— Lord Rosslyn— Mr. Henry Calcraf t— Mr. Henry Chaplin— Sir Henry 
Jariies. 

The reader will now be in a position to torm a fair general idea, 
to take a bird's-eye view, of London society. Wherever it may be 
— whether the scene shifts from May Fair and Hyde Park to the 
country-houses of the provinces or to the spas of the Continent— 
that society is always the same. There are thousands and tens of 
thousands of well-dressed, decently-bred, and more or less highly 
educated persons outside, but for our present purpose no account 
need be taken of these. 

Unless one develops a taste for sport or a grand passion one finds 
few inducementcj to study or mix with the society of London except 
in London. Nol, indeed, that one is able to dispense with making 
its acquaintance in its rural aspects. However much you may de- 
test the country and its occupations, the country-house visit is an 
occasional necessity, and, if you shoot or hunt, a very agreeable rite. 
But you will encounter no variety save of venue and surroundings. 
The company will be the same, and there will be no departure by a 
hair's-breadtU from the stock topics of conversation. If your host 
thinks it his duty lie will ask a few of the local gentry to meet his 
fine friends from Ijondon. But the aborigines of the district are 
instantly eclipsed by the brilliant strangers. Moreover, it is impos- 
sible for hosts and hostesses when they entertain their friends at the 
family seats in the English shires to do anything else. They must 
observe in the case of these gatherings the same principle that they 
do at their dinner-parties in totvn. Country-house hospitalities are, 
in fact, London dinner-parties prolonged over two or three days. 
The fruition of all which the resources of ttie establishment of the 
domain can yield is packed into that limited space. As the function 
is numerously attended, so it is exceedingly costly. The host has 
to tind accommodation. Dot merely for his friends, but for a multi- 
tude of servants. His visitors will not care to come unless they can 
meet their friends, and when that particular visit is over there are 
similar appointments in other parts of the United Kingdom to be 
kept. 

You will thus see that the instinct for novelty and change, which, 
as I have already cKplained, is one of the most pronounced attri- 
butes of society, is compensated equally in the country and in London 
by the infinite sufterance of the familiar and the stereotyped. Un- 
less, indeed, this element preponderates in the composition of any of 
the parties to which you are invited, you will at once know that the 
establishment is ©ne of a second-rate order. After a very little ex 
perieaice you will be able to predict with accuracy whom you will 
find at a dinner-table or in a drawing-room upon any given occasion. 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 45 

■and if when you enter the apurtments of your liosts the majority of 
Ihe names and faces are strange, you will be right inconchuiing that 
3'our entertainers are not so well placed as to entitle them to a con- 
tinuance 'jf your attentions. 

A small sprinkling of unknowns is indeed permissible, and may 
be contemplated without apprehension. Famous travelers recently 
returned from the East, relatiTes of the househohl who liave been 
serving with their regiments in India, in Canada, or elsewhere, 
even obscure cousins are to be expected. But society, as it is repre- 
st'nted by its representatives at these select reunions, invariably 
looks with something of astonishment and distrust at the unknowns, 
and wonders as the English king wondered of the apples in the 
dumplings how the deuce they ever got inside. Yet the society in 
which 3-ou will see no one whom after a lime you have not seen be- 
fore is less tedious on the whole than the society in which new faces 
abound. It is not merely the best, but perhaps the only, the sole 
society which it is worth taking the trouble lo enter. When an En- 
glish wit was once asked to dine in Bloomsbury in the old coaching 
days, he replied, " Delighted, but pra^' tell me where we change 
horses." The impertinence and affectation were al)ominable. Tiie 
assumption, however, on which they rented, that it was not worth 
while dining outside the limited circumference of fashion, was jus- 
tified by facts. What Bloomsbury was, South Kensington is; and 
though there are many persons who have a recogniz(Kl position in 
London society, and who live in Queen's Gate, and its neighborhood, 
you will do w^ell to hesitate before you accept the ordinary invitations 
which emanate to you from their quarter. 

What are the tits or principles of union which hold the various 
sections of London society, and the individuals constituting these 
sections, together? Except for special purposes it is not similarity 
of interests or tastes. It is not the link of political sympathy. Least 
of all is it resemblance of antecedents. Probably 1 shall not be 
wrong if 1 say that there is no bond of social union so subtle and 
far-reaching as that of sport — sport in its various branches— shoot- 
ing, hunting, the caid-table, and, above all, the turf. It is a com- 
mon English saying that " on the turf and under it nil men are 
equal." For art and literature it is not incumbent on Englishmen 
to profess any regard. Toward politics their attitude may be, and 
usually is, one of skepticism, indifference, and pessimism. It they 
are members of the House of Lords or the House of Commons they 
wlil vote upon a particuhr side and will be attached to a particular 
leader. But they are not pervaded by any cohesive spirit of polit- 
ical loyalty, and it is notconsidered to their discredit that they should 
often avow they are sick to death of politics and of everything ap- 
pertaining to them. 

But in sport, employing that word in the comprehensive sense 
just indicated, 1 find a pastime or a business— call it what you will 
—that really constitutes a center round which the social atoms, each 
in it« own orbit, revolve. All Englishmen, and a good many 
Englishwomen, if they nave no vested interest in horses, bet, gam- 
ble, or speculate in some way. When it is not tne Turf, it is the 
Stock Exchange; and perhaps this is the reason that the City plays 
so large a part in the arrangements of the West End. Duchesses 



46 SOCIETY IN L0XD02S". 

and other ladies ot rank, 1 may parenlhetically observe, would 
scarcely be so demonstrative in their affection tor the wire-i)iillers ot 
tlie London money market, to say nothing of a crowd ot slock job- 
bers and stock-brolvers, but tor the speculative impulse within them. 

1 pronounce, without hesitation, that the turt and the operation* 
essential or subsidiary to it possess more of a universal power in 
society and exercise a greater attractive force in society than any- 
thing else. It is the ruling passion, and in virtue ot its predomi- 
nance it does in eftect group society round itself. The Prince of 
Wales, as society's idng, is a patron of the turt; seldom misses an 
important race meeting, and is reported to have a share in the pro- 
prietorship ot some race-horses. The Duke of Richmond cele- 
brates the Goodwood uu-eting, held iu his park, with a brilliant 
country-house party, of not less than thirty oi forty in number^ 
containing the cream of London society, and every one ot them in- 
terested, or making a show of being interested, in racing. Many 
other mansions iu the neighborhood are tilled in the same fashion, 
though upon a less splendid scale. What takes place in and about 
Goodwood in August has been previously witnessed in tlie neigh- 
borhood of Ascot in June. A fortnight before Ascot the Derby has 
been run at Epsom, and the week between Epsom and Ascot tradi- 
tionally marked the zenith and the apogee of the London season. 
Kor are the other great hippie festivals i^f the year at Doncaster, at 
Stockbridge, and at Chester of less local importance. Rightly, 
therefore, will you learn to look upon the turt as one of the great 
rallying centers ot London society— as the embodiment ot the 
principle which unites society the most. 

1 will now proceed to say a few words about the more prominent 
of those ranged round and on the turt, who, if ihey are not actively 
its patrons, associate with ej.ch other more or less directly under its 
auspices. 1 do not exaggerate the charms of the pastime— all I say 
is that it is one which sei ves as a social focus„ One ot its presidents 
is the largest and wealthiest of Loudon landlords, the Duke of 
Weslniinster, an altogether exemplary peer in every relation of lite, 
with a clean-made figure, spare, and even thin, good features, ot a 
Bomewhat rigid type, looking perhaps generally less like the ideal 
ot an English noble than ot a man ot business. His manner is re- 
served, his hospitalities are judiciously dispensed. He is A^higor 
Liberal in politics, zealous to promote anything which may conduce 
to the social benefit of the musses. 

The Duke of Beaufort is a peer of a different sort. The possessor 
of a racing stud, he is more largely interested in hunting and in 
four-in-hand driving than the Duke ot Westminster. He has no 
Town residence, living in apartments, hard by SL. James's Park. At 
Badminton, his country-seat in Gloucestershire, he keeps open 
house. He is the elderly Alcibiades ot ihe theatrical profession, and 
he is not unknown at the coulisses of the burlesque theaters. A 
genial, open-handed representative of the English country squire, 
with the titles of a great peer and the top-dressing ot a man about 
toivn. 

The Duke of Portland is not yet thirty years of age. Before he 
succeeded, six years ago, to his title, he Avas a captain iu the Foot 



^UCIETV IS LOXDOX. 47 

Oiiards. with only llic ordinary allowance of a young English gen- 
tleman in that position, 

Amonij- others who belonuj to this category are also most or all of 
those of whom 1 have said something in treating of the l*rince of 
"Wales and his friends. Lord Kosebery, Lord Kosslyn. Mi. Henry 
Chaplin, Mr. Henry Cnlcraft, Lord A^lington, Sir George Chet- 
wynd, and Sir Frederick. Johnstone. The last two are sportsmen pure 
and simple. Without iheir stables and their race meeting they 
would liave no occupation. Each has figured in well-kno>vn pas- 
sages of English social history, sir Prederick Johnstone lias won 
and lost heavily; Sir George Chetwynd has been on the whole sue- 
•cessful. These are each of them Liii<j:lishmen of the type whom you 
may admire at Monte Carlo, not necessarily playing high, but en- 
joying life exceedingly, and always in smart company. 

Lord Rosebery is much more than an o\sner of race-horses. He 
is now a Cabinet Minister. He seldom sees his stud, and will per- 
haps soon cease to take more than a theoretical interest in its doings. 
Yet he is, while never speculating, a capital judge of a horse. His 
purchases have been judicious, and some years ago, atter having 
seen one of his stable, in which he had always believed, victorious 
in a match at ISewmarket Heath, he made a little later in the same 
day a telling and eloquent speech in the House of Lords, l^ord 
Rosebery possesses everything which can make existence happy and 
distinguished. 

His alliance with the house of Rothschild by marriage placed at 
his disposal a fortune vNhich, if not colossal — and in England alji^ 
men, having anything, are popularly credited with three times as 
much as they have— is sufficient. He is young as age is now com- 
puted, and looks younger than he is. He has excellent health and 
a capital appetite. He Is endowed with abilities which are not 
merely great, but ol a kind which* is exceptional in England, and 
yet wliich is peculiarly acceptable to those amid whom his career is 
passed. A.t Eton, to which he was devo<ed, as at Oxford, he never 
displayed great proficiency in the studies of the place; but he had 
no sooner shaken the dust of school and college oft his feet than he 
applied himself to the learning without which public men in Eng- 
land never make an enduring mark. When he was little more than 
five-and-twenty he had become sufficiently encyclopedic to deliver 
the opening address at that meeting of British' savants known as the 
Social Science Association. 

But it is not study which has made Lord Rosebery what he is. 
He is by the happy gift of nature witty and singularly light in 
hand. He can instruct his hearers, but he never bores them. He 
never proses. Hi,= sense of tun is exceedingly quick and happy, but 
there is nothing uproarious in his merrinrent. It is indeed chas- 
tened even to the point of severity. The cause of laughter in others, 
he rarely laughs himself. His faculty of suppressing any emotion 
of fun makes his fun funnier. His drollery is the more irresistible 
because his droll things are said with a countenance of gravity and 
in tones almost solemn and austere. Then, too, though his stature 
is not great, it is dignified. He might and occasionall}' does venture 
to enunciate sentiments, and even to ciack jokes which his company 



48 SOCIETY IN LONDON". 

appreciates the better because of the calm and serious manuer in 
which they are uttered. 

Lord Kosslyn is a nobleman ot a diflerent kind. Older, not of 
keener intellect, but of sharper and more habitually exercised busi- 
ness powers, distini^ue in appearance, with something ol the old 
mustache in his face and presence, a certain swagger or insolence of 
manner compatible with perfect dignity; with the aristocratic 
aftectation of voice, and an expression of the eye which, tvhen it 
is directed at a stranger, says as plainly as words, " Who the devil 
areyouV" Lord Rosslyn is by taste sportsman and poet, but his 
views of life are less those ot the poet than ot the sp'»rtsman. The 
impression which he conveys to his acquaintances and triends is that 
of being perpetually on the lookout for the main chance. He has 
as good an eye for a bargain as he h«s for a horse. He bas always 
something to suit some special requirement ot your own, or he 
knows of somebody else who is in that position. 

Here is a specimen of his pleasant, insinuating, and tiioughtful 
manner. 

"Ah! my dear fellow, so glad to see you. Staying in town a 
bit?" 

"Yes." 

" Think you asked mo to dine with you last week? Ko? A mis 
take then. Perhaps you have not a cook ; perhaps you want a cook ; 
if so, 1 can send you the best cook in the world." 

And so on. Lord Rosslyn is or would be an universal provider, 
^lie a London tradesman in a bourgeois quarter. Whether it is a 
xlief ox a secretary, a stud or a penimbulator. Lord Kosslyn can as- 
sist you to get the very thing j^ou want on tbe most advantageous 
terms. To those whom he meets on a footing of equality Lord 
Rosslyn is amusing, the best fun in the world. To his inferiors he is 
arrogant. Yet he means no evil; "it is simply his idiosyncrasy. He 
is a kind-hearted, chivalrous, and cultivated gentleman, with a wide 
acquaintance ot the world, and with liberal ideas of comfort and 
grandeur. 

Mr. Henry Chaplin is another personage of importance in London 
society, politics, and sport. He appears to take as his model the 
late Lord George iientinck, who was the champion of the Protec- 
tionist party in Parliament when Free Trade was being pressed for- 
ward, and who was also a mighty patron of the turf. There is a 
mixture in Mr. Chaplin's bearing ot geniality and pomposity which 
will be found by no means unpleasant. He has had his crosses, vex- 
ations, even his serious troubles in life. But his disappointments 
and his suffering, deep as they have been, have not permanently 
imbittered him. He denounce* his political opponents in Parlia- 
ment, but there is no malignity in his invective. His oratorical 
manner is heavy, his /nice .-sonorous, his sentences rotund. He re- 
minds one alternately of a school-boy decluimmg his theme and an^ 
evangelical clergyman proclaiming tlie doom of the scarlet lady from 
his pulpit. He has all the instincts, and laKes interest in all the 
avocations, of the country gentleman. Of practical politics he is 
ignorant; he calls himself a Tory. 

1 now pass to a character, perhaps the most ubiquitous in the 
polite life of the United Kingdom. Mr. Henry Calcraft is an illus- 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 4& 

tration ot Ibe social success which the Government oflicial in Lon- 
don has an opporl unity of securing, thoui^h he has not always the 
wit to know how to set about it. It is difllcult to say for what nat- 
ure intended this gentleman — detective agent or squire ot dames, 
mentor or minister, embassador or clerk, director-in-chief ot a 
nation's destinies or a commission agent. He has now been some 
thirty years in London society, knows every one, goes everywliere, 
and is at home everywhere. He may be bracketed witii Mr. Piulip 
Curiie as a professional and indetatigaole diner-out. His face wears 
a perpetual smile, which often breaks into a not very musical laugh. 
His manner is beanungly abrupt and fidgety; his body is in a con- 
stant state ot spasmodic motion, and his shirts are not made as well 
as his friends might desire. He jerks out his comments in a ragged 
sort of fashion, and, unless he has a particular reason tor being in- 
terested in vvhat his companion, man or woman, may be saying to 
him, he never seems to be paying any attention to you, but to be 
grudging you the time which the talk takes, as if he might be more 
protitably employed with some one else. JNlr. Calcraft, however, is 
a favorite, and a privileged one. He iias received the imprimatur 
of society, and he passes current everywhere. He is received by 
the very highest, by society's chosen king, the Prince of Wales, and 
by all the lesser luminaries of the English social constellation. 

The fashionable world in Englanil may be accused of fickleness, 
but it is reiilly loyally personified. It no more dismisses an old 
favorite than it hoots the actor, whom it has been its habit to applaud 
from the stage. Knowledge is power; and Mr. Calcraft is courted 
and powerful because, knowing so much, he is reputed to know 
even more than he actually does. It was this credit for social 
omniscience which some years ago caused him to be selected seri- 
ously l)y several competent social jiidges us the probable editor, 
when ihe post was vacant, of the greatest of English newspapers. 
Perhaps fully to explain this circumstance, 1 should say Ihat he has 
not only his finger always on the pulse of the upper classes, but 
that he has much otHcial experience, and is reckoned one of the 
most sagacious servants of the Crown amongst English civilians. It 
may be that he is now engaged in writing his memoirs; but if they 
are truthful as doubtless they will be comprehensive, their publica- 
tion will assuredly be posthumous. 

1 pass on now to a gentleman who for the purposes of society is 
in much the same category as Mr. Calcraft — Sir Henry James. His 
profession is that of a lawyer. His ambitions and his aptitudes are 
those of a statesman. Technically he is accounted the head of the 
common law bar of England, and by precedent and tradition he 
w'ould, unless some special arrangement were made, be appointed to 
the Lord Chancellorship should that august post fall vacant while 
his party is in power. He is clever in his calling, with a penetrat- 
ing intellect, and a manner not moi*e dogmatic than it is, 1 suppose, 
inevitable for lawyers in a position of authority lo develop. He 
has, too, no mean eye to statesmanlike effects, and occasionally, 
either in the House of Commons or in the country, he delivers'a 
speech on some political question of the hour which sets people talk- 
ing and thinking — which make? its mark. 
But on the occasions that you will encounter him, Sir Henry 



50 SOCIETY IN" LONDOJS". 

James 13 above everything the man ot society and of the world. 
His deportment is not wanting in a certain forensic flavor. He 
seems to be conscious of the presence ot a judge and a jury, even 
til .11 ah the latter should be onl_7 a jury of matrons and maids. 
Wherever you find Mr. Calcraft, there 3'ou may expect to see Sir 
Henry James. There is, too, a kind of personal resemblance be- 
tween them. Each has the same square-cut head, each the san^e 
vigilant eye, each the same capacity foi mastering at a glance the 
general character of the company in w^iich lie is placed. Sir Henry 
James, however, shrewd and profound jurisconsult as he is, is more 
than y\r. Henry Calcraft— whose heart was not, 1 should think, his 
most vulnerable point — a creature ot iaipulse. His manner is apt to 
be uneasy and restive. That is not so much because his intellect is 
overburdened with cares as because he is torn with emotions, some 
professional and some social, which he is anxious to suppress. 
These are his little peculiarities, and they endear him to society. 
The finest and most fashionable of ladies will tell you he is a " dear 
creature." He is equally popular with men. Perhaps that is be- 
cause he is so general a favorite with their wives and sisters. 

But that is only a partial explanation. He is himself no mean 
sportsman, and he provides excellent sport tor others. He manages 
to devote several weeks in every year to shooting in the Scotch High- 
lands. Be can bring down his due allowance of grouse, and occa- 
sionally does considerable execution amongst the deer. Then he is 
the proprietor of some very capital coverts within easy distance ot 
London, and when his legal duties compel him to be in town during 
the late weeks of autumn, he organizes shooting-parties with great 
success, and royalty itself slaugliiers his pheasants with its breech- 
loader. 



CHAPTER Yll. 

LAWYERS, JUDGES, DIVINES, SOLDIERS, AND DOCTORS IN LONDON 
SOCIETY. 

Lawyers and Judges: Lord Coleridge, Sir Henry Hawkins, Mr. Baron Huddle- 
ston, Mr. Justice Steplien, Sir Baliol Brett, Lord Justice Bowen, Mr. Justice 
Grove, Mr. Charles Russell, Mr. Montague Williams, Mr. Henry Poland- 
Divines: Cardinal Manning, Bishop of Peterborough, Archdeadon Farrar, 
Canon Li ddon— Soldiers and Sailors: Lord Wolseley, Sir Evelyn Wood. Sir 
George Greaves, Sir John McNeill, Sir Thomas Baker, Sir Redvers BuUer, 
Sir Edward Hamley, Sir Charles EUice, Sir Archibald Alison, Sir Arthur 
Hei'bert, Lord Chelmsford, General Crealock, "Charlie" Eraser. "Tim"' 
Reilly, "Pug" Macdonnell, Lord Airlie, Lord Dundonald, Lord St. Vincent, 
Colonel Methuen, Admirals Wilson, Ti-yon, and Maxse, becmx sabre%irs— 
Doctors: Sir Andrew Clark, Sir William Gull, Sir Oscar Clayton, Dr. Quain, 
Dr. Morell Mackenzie, Sir William Jenner and Sir James Paget. 

As I have just made mention of no less a person than the Attor- 
ney-General, 1 will say something more about the legal luminaries 
who are to be encountered in Ijondon society. It is not my busi- 
ness to compose a little treatise for public edification on the subject 
cf the legal profession, which, as far as 1 have been able to observe, 
consists principally of gentlemen who have nothing to do, and of 
whom no one hears anything; secondly, of gentlemen who have a 
great deal to do, but who are for social purposes unknown; thirdly, 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 51 

of laxvyers -who combine success or eminence in their calling with 
social notoriely. 'i'he lawyer who belongs to either of the two tirsi 
categories may be aa estiniable person, but is indistiuguishable. from 
the point of view I can alone take now, from any otlier vaiiety of 
hard-working Briton. Who wants to know where or how the great 
pundit of the Chanceiy Bar, Mr. Jones, lives? or what is tlie ap- 
pearance, and what jire the ideas of his scarcely less successful rival, 
Mr. Kobiuson? To the ordinary member of society these aie, and 
will always be, names. It is better that 1 siiould describe a few of 
the gentlemen learned in the law to wliom .you are likely to be pre- 
sented in the course of your pilcrimage through society in London. 

1 shall begin with the Lord Chief Justice, Lord Coleridge, who 
enjoys the tame of being the best conversationalist and the most 
agreeable companion at a dinner-table. On his private virtues 1 will 
forbear to dwell. He is pious and thrifty; he is a widower; he is a 
High Churchman, a great scholar; he reads novels, but is generally 
believed never to have looked at or heard of any newspaper except 
the "Times." He is the friend of Mr. Henry Irving, but he was 
never acquainted with the name of Mr. Corney Grain, a delightful 
drawing-room entertainer, until that gentleman had been brought 
before his notice officially. Lord Coleridge is fond of the theaters, 
but the theaters which he does not personally visit are to him as if 
they were not. He knows the Haymarket and the Lyceum, but of 
the Gaiety and the Globe — 1 select the names at random — he would, 
1 suspect, putting on that aii of innocent amazement of which he is 
a master, profess himself in a state of " unqualified nescience." 

This peculiarity on h'S part may at first surprise you a little. It 
will cease to surprise you when you know him somewhat better, and 
have acquired an insight into his bland irony. T am not quite certain 
whether, if you mentioned to him you were iroing to see the Derby 
or the Ascot Cup run for, he would not look at 3'ou with benign and 
wondering curiosity, and then ask you wliether these hippie contests 
took place in England. 

1 have often, ^'ears ago, heard his Lordship examine or cross- 
examine witnesses in court, and if ever any individual assumed with 
perfect success the manner of the heathen Chinee, which, according 
to Mr. Bret Hart^\ was child-liKe and bland, that individual was the 
present Lord Chief Justice of England. Other counsel, when they 
found the man or woman before iliem in ihe witness-box stubborn- 
ly stupiti or reticent, would attempt to browbeat and bully. Sir 
John Coleridge, as he was then, would shake his head with a 
seraphic smile in disapproval of so inhuman a proceeding, and would 
wait his tur-n. He w^ent upon an entirely different tack. He never 
bullied, never hurried or flustered any one, but he got out of every 
one the exact thing he w;.nted, and by dint of sheer suavity inveigled 
those whom he inlerrogated into making the most suicidal admis- 
sions 

The way in which he accomplished it was this. He treated the 
witness before him, not merely as a gentleman or a lady, but as a 
kind of superior being, who had iit his or her disposal just the in- 
formation to extricate him from an appalling difficulty. " My good 
friend," he said, or seemed to say, " pray lielp me. 1 really know 
nothing about this matter. My own 'faculties are exceedingly 



52 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

limited. 1 am a simple searcher after truth, and 1 respectfully pray 
for your assistance. Let me proceed to ask you in my own un- 
sophisticated way a lew modest, questions." When those modest 
questions had been put and, as they invariably were, answered in 
the exact way in which the queslioner anticipated and designed, the 
prisoner at the bar, It it was a hanging case, and Sir John Coleridge 
was against him, was a dead man. He telt the hempen cord tighten 
round his neck, and turned pale and sick. 

Of its kind this is the highest sort of art 1 have ever seen dis- 
played in a court of justice. 1 am not surprised that Lord Coleridge 
should be a great patron of actors. It he has learned something 
from them, they may have perfected their education by studjing 
him; for he, indeed, was, and is, the greatest actor of all. To sum 
up his character, 1 should say that Lord Coleridge was, while hav- 
ing a consummate eye to artistic effect, a little too obviously artificial. 
Rh voice is too dulcet to be quite natural; his conversation too 
primly eloquent to flow spontaneously; his anecdotes are too much 
elaborated, and, 1 am constrained to say, not unfrequently bear too 
close a resemblance to stories which have long since become classical, 
to have the air of genuineness. His Lordship, in fact, conveys the 
idea that there is a good deal in the background which he does not 
"find It convenient to bring prominently forward, and yet which is 
just as much a part of the man himself, and of his life, as the im- 
pressive personality and sententious sagacity or ornate instructive- 
ness which sum up the idea conceived of him by society. 

Contrast with Lord Coleridge another English judge well known 
in what are called fashionable and sporting circles— Sir Henry Haw- 
kins. They designate him a hanging judge, because it is not his 
liabit to treat crime as merely the abnormal development of virtue, 
or to commiserate thieves and murderers as irresponsible lunatics. 
J^'acts are to him what ideas are to the Lord Chief Justice. The 
latter has the spirit of a law reformer, but then he thinks that no 
legal reform can be worth having which is not first approved by his 
own conscience; that is to say. Lord Coleridge is perpetually engaged 
in the attenipt to construct a new legal code, which shall have pre- 
cedence over any code in existence, out of his own subjective notions 
of right and wrong. His conscience— he holds with the High Church 
divines— is the image of God reflected within him. Its verdicts, 
therefore, are infallible and absolute. Consequently, anything he 
can do to twist the laws of man into conformity with the laws of 
God— otherwise with the ideas of Lord Chief justice Coleridge — 
is calculated to promote the dignity of law and the moral improve- 
ment of the human race. 

Sir Henry Hawkins is entirely free from any of these judicial sen- 
timentalisms. The object of the law, as he understands it, is to put 
down crime, to be a terror to evil-doers. This object it can not 
effect unless it treats criminals as criminals, and not as the jyi'oteges 
of the hopeful experimentalist in social ethics. I confess 1 never 
look at Lord Coleridge and then at Sir Henry Hawkins, when 1 
happen to meet them — which is exceedingly seldom — at the same 
dinner-table, without being reminded of the screen scene in the 
"School for Scandal." Lord Coleridge appears to me the Joseph 
Surface of that episode which elicits from his brother Charles the 



SOCIETY IX LONDON. 53 

ironical observation, " There is nothing so noble ns a man of senti 
ment." feir flemy Hawkins is the Sir Peter Teazle, who bluntly 
interposes with the " Oh. damn your sentiments!" Jiut then Sir 
Henry Hawkins is not, as Lord Coleridjie is, a metaphysician, a 
theologian, a scholar, a nineteenth-century Chrysostom. He Is only 
a tirstrate lawyer, a clear-sighted judge of evidence, with an intel- 
lect whicli acts as an acid solvent to cant of all sorts — a man of I he 
world who has no wish to pose as a latter-day edition of a father of 
the early Christian Church, a Greek sophist, or a mediaeval ancho- 
rite. 

Again Sir Henry Hawkins does not boast the possession of a great 
uncle who was so wholly impossible as Samuel Taylor Coleridge — 
poet, mystic, religious dreamer, and entirely untrustworthy in every 
ft-lation of life. When Sir Henry Hawkins has done his day's work 
he takes a stroll with a terrier of a particularly sporting type; and 
this over, dines at the Turf Club, or wherever else his engagements 
and inclinations may prompt him. Whither Lord Coleridge retires, 
if he has not to keep a dinner appointment; with prelates or with 
titled laymen more severe in their notions than prelates themselves, 
1 have not the faintest idea. 

Among the other judges who are to be met with in London society 
tlie most notable perhaps are Mr. Baron Hudilleston, Mr. Justice 
Stephen, and the Master of the Rolls, feir Baliol Brett. The last of 
these is on tlie Bench a man ol singular acumen, gitted witli an ex- 
traordinarv memory, with a marvelous capacity to seize the points 
that are of real importance, and with a remarkable knack of con- 
tinuously illustrating and emphasizing the line of argument he has 
from the first resolved to maintain. He sees tar and he sees clearly, 
but he never sees either to the right or to tlie left. His appearance 
is in his tavor, and eloquent of his prosoerily. There is too mucti 
ot refinement and intellectual power in his face not to render it im- 
pressive. He is a man of distinction and dignity, and though in 
drawing-rooms one might thinic that his first object was to produce 
a favorable impression on ladies of title, young and old, though he 
has some of the conceits and afteclatious ot a superannuated peii't- 
nitiitrc, every one perceives immediately that he is iar more than he 
pretends to be. Sleek and florid one may think him, and he is. 
Talk five minutes to him, and, after he has gratified his vision by 
lookitig down on his jeweled fingers and his well-trimmed nails, you 
will discover that the jNIaster of the Rolls is a person of rare shrewd- 
ness and sagacity, and of wide an;l varied knowledge. 

While Sir Baliol Brett might be taken ensily for any person rather 
than a judge, Mr. Baron Huddleston and Mr. Justice Stephen wear 
the judge conspicuously, ostentatiously on their shirt fronts. Not, 
indeed, in the same manner. There are, perhaps, no two men in 
London society, and certainly no two judges, who are more dia- 
metrically dissimilar. Although Mr. Baion Huddleston expends his 
energies on his profession, and he lays out his whole life with a 
paramount regard tu the duties imposed on him by the Bench, he 
does not live forgetful of society or its claims; and in his sclieme ot 
existeni^e the polite world, of which he is an acknowledged orna- 
ment occupies a ]«rominent place. He married the daughter of the 
late and the sister of tlie present Duke ot St. Albans. " He is thus 



64 SOCIETY IN LONDOX. 

lioDored with the patent of a bievet nobility. He bas shown nmch 
acuteness iu discovering that he is more important and diverting irt 
society in proportion as he utilizes lor its benefit the special experi- 
ences lie has acquired as a judge. His conversation is free from 
trivial banalities. 

In a word, he is interesting because he speaks of what he knows 
and of what others do not, yet in such a way that he is never obscure 
or unintelligible. Experts have mo:e authority than is well tor 
themselves or for the rest of mankind in England. Nor do 1 know 
a greater weariness to the tiesh than a specialist discoursing on some 
topic of which he is supposed to possess the monopf)ly. Mr. Baron 
Huddleston has all the advantages ot a legal specialist, and uoue of 
his drawbacks. He never obtrudes his professional experiences. 
He never tlirows them away He economizes them, introducing^ 
them just when and where he perceives that they may be subservient 
to the general conveisational good of the community. He will spin 
you legal and judicial yarns by the yard if he is quite certain that 
there is a real demand "for them. But in general society he is con- 
tent to give just a judicial flavor to the conversation, exactly as the 
late Bishop ol Winchester, Dr. AVilberfbrce — and the two men have 
a great deal in common redundant — was an adept iu giving au eccle- 
siastical or episcopal flavor to it. A judge or a bishop in society 
ought, in my opinion, to be what onion is in a salad or garlic in an 
omelet— it should scarcely be detected, and yet it should animate 
the whole. 

Mr. Justice Stephen does- not, any more than Mr. Baron Huddle- 
ston, aggressively remind those about him that he is a judge, Bui; 
then he does not condescend to trifles. He has no small talk, and 
one can as readily imagine an elephant dancing a minuet as Fitz- 
James Stephen, to call him by the name which seems mosi familiar 
to his friends, engaged in the free give-and-take ot casual conversa- 
tion. He is above all things a professor, a homilist, a supeiior 
creature. He must have a thesis, a text, an audience. Give him 
now a verse from a poet or an incident in a novel — he is wonder- 
fully well read in the romances of Victor Hugo— an ethical paradox, 
or a specious commonplace; give him, I say, any one of these 
things, and you will hear an interesting little lecture quite worthy 
of a mechanics' institute. He wants, indeed, lightness of touch. 
Nasmyth hammers are sometimes indispensable, but they have not 
superseded nut-crackers; and Mr. Justice Stephen is the embodi- 
ment of the force, though it is not always quite as delicately adjust- 
ed with him as in the oiigiual of the 'former of these two imple- 
ments. 

What could you expect, however, when you look at the man? A 
head of enormous proportions is planted, with nothing intervening 
except an inch-and-ahalf neck, upon the shoulders of a giant. 
Force is written upon every line of his countenance, upon every 
square inch of his trunk. He is not a particularly engaging person, 
but a very impressive one. The genius of the Anglo Saxon race is 
embodied in men ot this stamp. He lacks geniality and play of 
fancy, but in their stead he has a grim and never-flagging percep- 
tion of what he means and what he w\ants. He is not only a worker 
whose sole form of amusement is a variety of work, he is probably 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 55 

never conscious of fntimie. It i^ not so far linck lliftt he went to 
lni]i:i. and fince Ihe tlnys of Macaulay'rf visit lo ti);it porlion of the 
British empire no man ever hibored in India as Fit/. .lames ytepliea 
did. Ordinary mortals of a less robust frame and less heroic powers 
of concentration visit ilimlostan, and parliully succumb to tlio 
enervatino; influences of the climate. Stephen was far above all 
that sort of thing. He had not voyaired four thousand miles from 
Ent'Iaud to do nothing. He accomplished marvels of industry, and 
he tilled his purse. Shortly after his return he was made a judge, 
and here he is in P'ugland to-day, treating toil as if it were a pas- 
time, and, when not considering knotty cases or delivering weighty 
judgments in court, amusing himself with writing discourses on an}' 
subject which, provided it be sufficiently stiff, he can discover in the 
borderland between metaphysics and law. 

Many other judges than these there are, to say nothing of counsel, 
learned in the law who are after their modest fashion consteliations 
in the firmament of fjondon society. But they all twinkle in nearly 
the same style, and it would be a little t(dious lo describe the vari- 
ous degrees of radiance which they shed. Some of them, like Mr. 
Justice Grove, are eminent men of science. Lord .histice Bowen is 
n judge who, widely differing from any of those already mentioned, 
is a j)*-'i''^ona grata to London society. The j^oungest of the iilus- 
tri^us potentates of the High Court of Appeal, he represents the in- 
fluences and the culture of the most approved Oxfoid school. Legal 
and judicial subjects, as a social talker, he eschew^s; nor are the 
mere frivolities of society, fond of society though he is, to his taste. 
He discusses matters of art and literature, blue china and science, 
with the impartiality of a philosopher and the precision of a pro- 
fessor. His voice has the academic ring, and his appearance is of 
a kind that one instinctively connects rather with an ecclesiastic or 
a school-master than a judge. 

As for the remaining occupants of the judicial bench, they are not 
for the most part personages in Loudon society. If you sit next at 
dinner to any well informed and highly educated gentleman who is 
either particularly outspoken or particularly reserved in his com- 
ments, who cavils at much, or who commits himself to nothing, the 
chances are either that that gentleman is a judge or that he is a very 
eminent lawyer. Unless there is some particular reason to induce 
them to do so, the last thing which they will discuss is— and it is 
extremely natural that this should be the case—their own profes- 
sional avocations. They are sportsmen and whist-players, like Mr. 
Charles Russell; or men of society and patrons of the theater, like 
Mr. Montagu Williams; or students of the seamy side of human 
nature, like Mr. Henry Poland. The great bulk of them have not 
characteristics even as definite as these. They are perfectly color- 
less, and the general tendency of London society is to reduce not 
only them but all professional men to a dead level of monotony. 

Lonaon society is, indeeil, as great a leveler as Death itself; and 
professional men who are recognized in London society owe their 
position, with some exceptions, not to their eminence in their own 
callings, but to their capacity for being absoibed into their environ- 
ment. This is true of professional men of all ivinds in their social 
capacity. Thus there is in London society no military caste. Mill- 



56 SOCIETY IN LOis'DON. 

tary oflBcers, or, to speak more accurately, gentlemen bearing mili- 
tary rank, abound. But great numbers of ttiem are retired, or on 
half-pay, waiting, often hopelessly, for active employment. The 
true soldier type is somewhat of a bird ot passage; now in London, 
now in the wilds of ^Africa or Afghanistan, now reappearing, to be 
feted and pelted on every side. The successful soldier is welcomed 
at Windsor or in the most exclusive coteries. His mani el-piece is 
crowded with cards of invitation, and the Prince of Wales secures 
his election to the Marlborough Club. Lord Wolseley has society 
at his feet. Lady Wolseley sliares in the conquest, having rendered 
her lord and master intinite service by her tact, industry, and strict 
attention to the business of calls, correspondence, and entertain- 
ment. The Wolseleys are met everywheie. 

A keen soldier, whose first and last thought is for his profession. 
Lord Wolseley is also a thorough man of the world. He likes to 
be supposed to know everything, to do everything, to be capable of 
everything. The last bit of gossip, the last political canard flows 
glibly from his lips; he is a dilettante in art, and will readily preside 
at a dinner oi literary men. Bright-eyed and vivacious, he talks 
fluently of the social Jile around him as one behind the scenes and 
deep in its mysteries. But a passins; remark, a chance question, a 
sinijle hint, will draw him out directly on the subject he has nearest 
his heart. Ever ready to discuss military matters, and with a free- 
dom that has won bim at times no little ill-will. Lord Wolsele}^ is 
most tenacious ot his opinions, and the uncompromising champion 
of the new institutions which he has helped to create, and which 
are still on their trial. Those who hold opposite views may expect 
no quarter; comrades of all ranks, high and low alike, come under 
his lash, a reactionary royal duke no less than the careless subaltern. 

To those who are of his way of thinking, and who will support 
him through thick and thin, he is a stanch and t'-ue friend. 
There are many such men whom he has himself selected and pushed 
to the front, and who have repaid his appreciation by steady and 
unstinting devotion. It is pleasant to see him in the midst of his own 
followers. They are his chosen intimates and associates; he is frank 
and cordial with them, free-spoken, as a comrade, yet retaining, 
although never seeming to claim, their respect. 

At one time the epithet Wolseleyite, as applied to the Wolseley 
school, was employed as a term of reproach. In the future it may 
be regarded as a terra of distinction, for the men whose names are 
on every tongue when England's frequent wars are in progress, are 
those who began or graduated under Wolseley. Sir Evelyn Wood 
has a reputation of his own, but the mobile, easily excited 3'oung 
general, fluent of speech, prompt in action, with the habitually 
grave expression of a man who has pondered deeply upon the mys- 
teries of the higher life, would not have climbed the ladder so 
rap'dly had not he cast in his fortunes with the conqueror ot King 
Cofi:ee Calcali. Sir George Greaves, a blunt and brusque soldier, 
was the close ally and adviser of Lord Wolseley in the Ashanti 
campaign. Sir John McNeill is another Wolseleyite who owes to 
his war services the favor of his sovereign. There is little ot the 
silken, supple courtier about him; he is only too eager to exchange 
the court for a camp, as now, when his soldierly character, aided 



SOCIETY IX LONDON. 0/ 

perhaps by ro3'al influence, has sent him as a hriiradier to Suakini. 
He is no clouht useiul as an (-(juerry, but what the C^ueen likes best 
in him is his Scotchman's love of sport. One of the liveliest of the 
Queen's canine pets is a Scotch terrier, the gift of Sir John Mc- 
Keill. 

Loncj ago Sir Thomas Baker attached himself to Lord Wolseley's 
fortunes, and has risen with them; a smooth-spoken, pleasant- 
mannered man, acceptable in every drawing room, and much 
repiimlu in London society when not actively engaged abroad. 

Perhaps the most remarkable of ATolseley's tollowers, the one 
who has risen most rapidly, and who will do best if he escapes the 
spears ot the Soudanese warriors, is Sir Redvers Buller. His pro- 
motion gives the lie to the common opinion that speedy advancement 
is deuiecl to real merit in the British army. Fifteen years ago Red- 
vers Buller was a lieutenant in a rillc regiment. To-day he is a 
general officer with reasonable hopes of a peerage if he lives many 
years more. He is a soldier heart and soul: he would not relinquish 
ills profession even when the death of an elder brother gave him the 
succession to wide estates. Nothing holds him back when there is 
fighting on hand; neither the cares ot a country place nor a newly 
wedded wife. xVbrupt, even discourteous in his manner, he im- 
presses you with his bold, uncompromising spirit. Diffidence does 
not enter into his composition; he is so self-reliant that he would 
be thought merely conceited if a weaker man. His value is now 
generally recognized; but even when fewer people believed in him, 
Buller fully believed in himself. This excessive self-confidence is 
not a pleasing trait, backed up as it is by a contempt he is often at 
no pains to conceal for the best efforts of others. Buller may be 
strong enough to despise popularity, but it is certain that, although 
respected, feared even, he is not greatly liked by his brethren in 
arms. 

Lieutenants like Sir Redvers Buller help to keep alive and im- 
bitter the op['Osition to his chief. Wolseley's success has gained him 
many foes; enemies public and private, who deny his talents, and 
would scarcely regret his failure in the very arduous undertMking 
he tius now in'hand. A very open and unfriendly critic is Sir Ei€ 
ward Hamlf y, whose hostiliiy dates from Tel-el-Kebir. His hitter 
feelings found vent after the campaign in a public print. In no 
army but the British would a subordinate divisional general have 
dared to pass such an affront upon his commander. But Hamley 
aspires to be an oracle; he affects an European reputation as a mll- 
tary man ot letters. And he is always ready to txpress his views 
with the vehemence of conviction. His constant attitude is that 
of a genius unappreciated. A pretty knack in composition, and 
a pedantic but not profound acquaintance with military literature, 
seems to have encouraged him in the belief that he is an undeveloped 
Napoleon. Only opportunity was needed he thought, yet when 
the chance came, in Egypt, what did he do with ItV Now he is 
consumed with inward jealousy of every competitor, old and young, 
and vents his spite in scathing invective on all. Sir Edward is in 
consequence an agreeable and amusing companion, caustic, a trifle 
too ponderous in his talk, and too formal in his satirical epigrams, 
but listened to gladly by all who like to hear their friends abused. 



58 SOCIETY IX LOXiJO^'. 

He is something of a hon tivant, and indefatigable as a diner out. 
A comfortable look of cmhoiipomi is growing upon him. It is little 
likely that Hamley, although convinced of his own superior capac- 
ity, will be actively employed again. Were he less overbearing, 
Itss intolerant, less' ill natured, he might give useful advice uport 
general questions, but he is hardly suited for command. He may 
soon, indeed, be included among the " has beens," like Lord ]Sa- 
pier. Sir " Dan " Lysons, Sir Alfred Horsford, or Sir Charles Eilice. 

The last of these, possessor of a substantial income and of a lies- 
pituble house in Eaton Square, long filled a large space in London 
lite. Fortune has always smiled upon Sir Charles. As a young 
man the massacre of a hecatomb of brother officers at Chill ian- 
v^'allah, w^hiie he was absent on the staff at Malta, pushed him at 
one stroke io the top of the regimental tree. He fought an ill-con- 
ceived and badly executed action in the Indian mutiny, which would 
have ruined another, but was with Ellice the stepping-stone to the 
best appointment in the service. He has passed from post to post, 
from one command to another. Essentially a persona grata to the 
Duke of Cambridge, he enjoyed the fullest share of that august 
person's patronage, and was in succession Military Secretary, Quar- 
termaster-General, and Adjutant-General at the Horse Guards. It 
is difficult for an outsider to realize his fitness for the highest staft 
employment. Extremely suave in manner and very dignified in de- 
portment, his mental caliber is mediocre, and his chief talent has 
been displayed in picking the Drains of capable subordinates. This 
was the secret of his unwavering championship of Colonel Home, 
hnd the poignancy with w^hich he regretted that excellent officer's 
premature death. 

Strange to say the best mililary talent does not generally gather 
about the Horse Guards. Lord Wolseley '8 influence, when in power, 
may be effective in filling the junior posts with the best coming- 
men. But the seniors, the heads ot departments, must, before ail 
things, be personally acceptable to the Duke. This sadly limits the 
field of choice. Now and again the right man falls into the right 
place, as when Sir Edmund AVhitmore, urbane, considerate, and as 
impartial as the exigencies of his place admitted, filled the office ot 
Military Secretary Th(^ last appointment, that of Sir Archibald 
Alison to succeed Lord Wolseley as iVdjutant-General, might seem 
an exception to the rule; but no one thrown into the society of Sir 
Archibald Alison coulci credit him with commanding capacity. 
So garrulous a man, one who laughs so readily and so inanely at 
his own or any joke, can not impress 3'ou with his power. He has 
seen war, no doubt, and paid the ])enalty in his person, but an 
emptv sleeve, althouiih an honorable record of service, is not a 
convincing pi oof of power to lead. 

The narrow-minded official is to be seen in the man next him in 
rank at the Horse Guards. t>ir Arthur Herhert, the Quartermaster- 
General, has filled many minor posts satisfactorily, but he is w^ak 
anil irresolute, or his face belies him. Lord Chelmsford is another 
English general of some social prominence, whose appearance ex- 
plains his want of success as a leader of men. Face and physique 
both indicate feebleness of character. One can understand, after 
listening to his verbose defense of the operations he conducted, why 



SOCIETY IN" LONDON. 59 

the earlier phases ot the Zulu war were rot more brilliant. So 
much straitness of vision, combined with such an inordinate love ot 
pettj' detail, would infallibly produce an incompetent coninr.ander. 
They said of Lord Chelmsford m Africa, that he wishecttodo 
everybody's work; he could stoop to help a fati.i2;ue parly pick up 
stones from a road, but he was incapable ot designing a great 
strategical plan. Lord (Jlielmsford is most suited to the position in 
which he is supposed to be happiest, that ot senior assistant in the 
organ lolt of ttt. Peter's, Eaton Square. 

General Crealock, again, has talents artistic rather than military. 
He owed his first advancen\cnt lo the happy caricatures that raised 
n smde at Crimean head-quiirters in ilays of dire disaster. Since 
Itien ho has wielded brush and pencil with unwearied assiduity and 
much facility, but has never risen far above the amateur. But little 
ot the sportsman, he can yet draw a horse or a dog; without any 
knowledge of anntomy, he can catch a likeness and copy the human 
figure passably. His devotion to the arts has been sedulously 
turnetl toward the decoration of his own person, General Crealock 
being uniforntly remarkable for a strange originality in costume, 
juoslly florid and quite independent of fashion. lie made long- 
waisted, long-tailed overcoats, tight trousers, and broad-brimmed 
liats noticeable before the days of the masheis. He is fond of 
garish colors in his dress; he has expended years of patient pains 
on a curling beard, worn in despite of military regulations, and a 
divinely waxed, interminably involuted corkscrew mustache. All 
this has naturallV occupied him too much to allow of any deep and 
close study of his profession. He might have been useful in the 
junior grades of the general staff:, but as a leader in the field he 
was a conspicuous failure. His groans fiom the Tuirela, when 
crying for the condiments still wanting to complete his commis- 
sariat, made him the laughing-stock of Europe. A more enterprising 
and more competent general would have organizer] his trains for 
himself, at least he would have managed to advance somehow 
when his co-operation was so urgently required. 

There are many soldiers in society, without great military preten- 
sions, who are si ill very typical of their class. Generals like Bar- 
nard Hankey, a kindly, warm-hearted friend, beloved of duchesses, 
and welcome at cozy tea-tables, who m.ight, had he seen more serv- 
ice in the days when lie was young, have gained higher honors; 
" Charlie " Eraser, a glorified dragoon who has reached the apothe- 
osis of old dandydom, and whose glossy hats and inimitaole boot- 
varnish youthful plungers worship from afar; or " Tim " Reill}'', a 
gunner who has made no mark as a scientific artillerist, but who 
has, nevertheless, a solid understanding concealed somewhere in a 
somewhat loo solid mountain of flesh. "Tim," though uncom- 
tortably overgrown, is not thick-headed; he can say shrewd, sharp 
things, and he is not without honor among smart people. Admira- 
ble as a raconievr, a noted jester and^ mime. General "Pug" 
Macdonnell is happiest in gatherings where there are no women- 
kind. " Pug " is one ot ^the Prince ot Wales's favorite henchmen; 
Poins at a pinch, with good imitiition of excellent wit, who will 
keep dinner-table or amoking-ioom in a roar. But he does not 
covet, nor has he ever achieved, much military renown. The 



60 SOCIETY l]Sr LONDON-. 

names of such men might be multiplied indefinitely; they fluctuate 
between the park and Pall Mall, and never put on uniform except 
to go to Court, a duly which they perform leligiously at least once 
every season. 

The most hopeful sign for the future of the British army is the- 
soldierly spirit of the upper classes, which seud so many to take 
service in its ranks. Scions of the best families, tlie heads them- 
selves, are glad to bear the Queen's commission. The passion for 
warlike adventure has been inherited through ^generations of fight- 
ing ancestors, and these often fortunate youths, who might liuger 
amidst Ihe soft pleasures of London life, eagerly seek to share in 
the dangers and hardships of any campaign. The British peeiage 
was well represented in the last battles in the Soudan. One earl,. 
41rlie, was Stewart's Brigade-Major; and Lord Alrlie had already 
proved His thoroughness as a soldier by accepting the laborious 
duties of adjutant of his regiment, thelOth Hussars. Another peer. 
Lord Cochrane, or more exactly Lord Dundouald, highly distin- 
guished himself at the battle of Abu Klea; a clever, thoughtful 
youth, who, before he embraced the career of arms, had mastered 
the intricacies of chemistry, experimental and applied. Other peers 
and peers' sons, notably Lord St, Vincent, have met their death on 
recent hard -fought fields; many more cheerfully face exile and 
hard knocks in search of reputation. Foremost among tnem is 
Colonel Methuen, big, stalwart, handsome " Paul," an athlete in 
frame and by predilection; skilled in self-defense, and a master- 
hand with singlestick and foil. Paul Methuen is one of the gen- 
tlest, sweetest-tempered of men, good as gold, universally popular 
in London and in his profession. But he is ready for any rougti 
work that may offer anywhere. Just now he has turned a leader 
of irregular horse on the South African frontier, whence he may 
pass to the upper Nile, or the rocky faetnesses of Afghanistan. He 
is the exact opposite of the common ignorant conception of the 
British Guardsman, who, so far from being an indolent voluptuary, 
is perhaps tiie most eager for active service of any of his profes- 
sional brethren. 

They are most capital soldiers, these gallant members of the House- 
hold Brigade, and tneir merits are generally recognized. At this 
moment a Guards General, Stephenson, commands in Lower Egypt; 
another, Fremantle, was chief at Suakim, and is now a brigadier 
under Graham. Ewart, a Lifeguardsman, somewhat unfairly to 
light cavalry officers perhaps, is in command of Graham's cavalry. 
Dozens of others are clamorous candidates for employment. Men 
like Edward Clive, Fitzroy, Crichton, orMoncrietf, might safely be 
intrusted with any important work. Others, like George Villiers,. 
now military attache in Paris, or Everard Primrose, w^ho, till he 
joined Lord Wolseley, held the same post in Vienna, are excellently 
suited to represent our British army abroad. Colonel Villiers has 
a silky, caressing manner which wins him friends directly, and his 
handsome, engaging presence has secured him more than one borme 
fortune. Colonel Primrose seems older than his years; his rather 
stern and impassive face wears a grave, preoccupied look, but he 
talks well, and impresses you as a thoughtful, sensible man of the 
tvorld. A third military aiiaclie may be mentioned here, Colonel: 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 61 

Swaine, who, until his health broke down, had been acting as 
Military Secretary to Lord Wolselcy, but whose post is really at 
Berlin. The god'son of the King ot the Belgians, Leopold Victor 
JSwaiue, has many ot the characlerislics of the highly trained Con- 
tinental officer; he is a Ihient linguist and has much of the Germans 
Boliriity and thoroughness. With such officers as ^hese the reproach 
once leveled at the British aimy has no longer any foundation in 
fact. It can not well be said nowadays that British soldiers arc lions 
led by asses; at any rate, under the new short-service system, the 
lions are but wtielps, and with the marked development of profes- 
sional education the asses have learned much wisdom. 

British naval officers are drawn from the same sections ot society 
as those in the army, and, with due allowance for difference in tiain- 
ing and experience, display nearly identical characteristics. Great 
fame has generally been denied them. They are generally well bred 
and well informed, although apt in society to be bluff, outspoken, 
exuberantly genial, at times a little too nois3% and hearty. " Rim " 
Macdonald is one of this class; an intimate ally and associate ot the 
Prince of Wales, apt in repartee, well stocked with quaint and 
curious anecdote, and ready to take a leading part in any sports that 
may be afoot in the royal coterie. His appearance is less that ot 
the rough, weaiher-bealen sea-captain than of the sleek physician or 
financier; with a handsome face, a mobile eye, and a mouth which 
proclaims his character at a glance. Admiral Wilson, again, who 
has a distinguished record ot services, and has given proofs of the 
highest personal courage, is no less popular wiih the Heir-Apparent 
— a welcome guest at iSandringham or Marlborough House. Th& 
future Earl of Shaftesbury, Lord Ashley, is more remarkable pei - 
haps for a very low-crowned hat than brilliant services afloat, but 
he is a kindly, warm-hearted soul whom everybody likes. George 
Tryon, now Admiral on the Australian station, is widely known,, 
but less popular. The overbearing manner of the man who. as 
Secretary to the Admiralty, had long the prospects of his brother 
officers in his hands, does not please or conciliate; and it may be 
doubted whether he will greatly help forward the adjustment of 
pending delicate and difficult colonial questions. " Fred " 3Laxse 
did a gallant thing in his youth, and was long petted and made- 
much of in society; but with 3'ears he has developed a wildly rad- 
ical, almost communistic, spirit which has alarmed and estranged 
many friends. There is probably as good stuff in the naval officer 
ot to-day as when Britain really ruled the seas; but he has hitherto 
lacked opportunity, and modern science has so revolutionized his 
profession, that he will not easily maintain his pre-eminence in fut- 
ure naval wars. 

There are many eminent divines and preachers in England. Sonxe 
of them are the centers of a little group of intimate admirers anct 
friends, but when they are in society their professional status is 
practically relinquished, and they are recognized and respected, not 
as clerics, but as highly educated and agreeable men. The late 
Bishop "Wilberforce did much by his own example to cement this 
union between the Church and the world, or, as so:ne miidd un- 
charitably say, between religion, the flesh, and the devil. The late 
Dean of Westminster, Arthur Stanley, as he was always called. 



62 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

affectionately by London society, contributed unintentionally and ia 
a different degree to the same result. There is no Anglican ecclesi- 
astic living to-day who discharges any of these functions. Dr. 
Magee, the Bishop of Peterborough, has much of Wilber force's 
conversatiouul happiness, as he has also of his oratorical power, but 
in a haisher and heavier key. Canon Liddon and Dean Church 
very seldom appear in society, and would resent the imputation of 
being in the world, and of it, as Wilberlorce and Stanley delighted 
to be. 

Of course Society in London being the most moral and respecta- 
ble in the world dreading above all things the consequences of 
those very scandals the incidents of which it discusses with such 
avidity, naturally— and thus paying a tribute to the strength of the 
democracy— holds in high esteem the Church as an institution and 
the ordinances of religion. London is the only European capital 
■entirely sxiven over to the rule ot Sabbatarianism. Of late years, 
indeed, this despotism haS'been somewhat relaxed. The Sunday 
•dinner parties, which were once confined almost to business per- 
sons—lawyers, actors, and litterateurs— ^le now universal; as much 
the vogue in the best houses known to society as on its Bohemian 
borderland. The day, however, retains, notwithstanding the many 
pleasanter innovations which have relieved its austerity, some of the 
signs of its primitive sanctity. Most ot the smart people go to 
church, to the Chapel Royal, or to St. Margaret's, Westminster. iC 
they belong to the political set; and many other shrines are specially 
set apart for society's elect. Even those who do not go to church 
obligingly recognize in theory the obligation ot going (here when 
they talk of, or take a part in, the after-church parade in Hyde Pnrk. 
It is astonishing how far the most atomic quantity of the ecclesi- 
astical leaven will reach, and how much ot secular indulgence it 
will condone. That hour and a half spent in a Protestant temple 
earns for society the right to pass the remainder of its day, whether 
in town or country house, exactly as it pleases; beguiling the hours 
with flirtation or sraall-talK, piquet, ecarte, poker, baccarat, or ten- 
nis. 

The least spiiitually-mindedot ladies in London society may have 
a taste tor dipping into devotional books, and even among Protest- 
ants may have her own special " director.' It is not, perhaps, that 
she feels the want of these now, but she may feel tne want of them 
some day. . That is the principle on which many persons go to 
church. " It is like drinking from a mineral spring at a watering- 
place. One does not need it now, but one never knows that it may 
not produce some good hereafter. Some ladies as well as gentle- 
men there are wnth a passion for mysticism which the functions and 
the faith, whether of the Anglican or Roman communion, are not 
enough to gratify. There is an English peer who openly professes 
the faith of Mahomet. The propagimda of Esoteric Buddhism and 
Spiritualism has recently made niarked progress, and has afforded a 
career to several adventurous notoriety-hunters. 

But the teachers and preachers who belong to the more orthodox 
and generally accepted creeds have, notwithstanding the advance 
ot these bizarre superstitions, lost none ot their power. The Queen 
is a theologian as well as a statesw(»man, with some sympathy for 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 63 

tlieolofficrtl latihulinarianisn;, but Ihorouglily gound in her religious 
views, Willi u bias in llie direction of Scotcli Presbyterianisin. and 
on tiie whole in favor of what in England is called Moderate C'iiurch- 
raanship. The late Dr. Norman Macleod was a homilist Her 
.Majesty specially ailmired. and was said to have enjoyed her 
spiritual confidence. The Prince ot Wales is also, as 1 have inti- 
mated elsewhere, a capital judge ot a sermon, and lond of hearing 
a good one. That perhaps explains why there exists in English 
society a distinct feeling in favor of going to church. 

The most imposing figure among London ecclesiastics is that ot 
Cardinal INlanning, the Roman Catliolic Archbishop of Westminster 
Ascetic in appearance and in life, uibane and courtly in manner, 
intense in his convictions, narrow in his views, fervid and vehement 
iu his pulpit oratory, he is seldom to be seen in any other society than 
that ot which the great Roman Catholic houses— the Duke of ]Sor- 
folk's, Lord Denbigh's, Lord Ripon's— are the centers. A few yeart* 
aiio a certain Monsignor Capel, made famous by a pen and ink por 
trait ot him as Monsignor Catesby in one of Lord Beaconsfields's 
novels, shot like a meteor through the social firmament. His relations 
■with Cardinal Manning were not fortunate, and he has temporarily 
disapjiearpd. Among^Anglican prelates there is none who fills any- 
thing like the same place "in the social system as was formerly oc- 
cupied by Wilberforce, Bishop of Winchester. Ihe Archbishop of 
York has some qualifications for the Court and tiie ficilon. Dr. 
Magee, Bishop of Peterborough, destined by nature to be a great 
Pailianu-ntaiy debater or a great judge, crowning his career with 
the Lord Chancellorship, is sometimes to be met at dinnei-tal)les, 
and has a gift of saying pungent things in a witty and sparkling 
w-ay. Archdeacon Farrar is the most extensivel}^ admired of pulpit 
declaimers. His eloquence is inexhaustible and oi-nnte. He deluges 
his congregation with magnificent words and splendid images. But 
Ills is the genius rather of the popular jouinnlist than of the tradi- 
tional school of Anglican preiichers. * Mr. Teignmouih Shore, a 
voluDle and amiable Irishman, has combined the mission of im- 
proving society and advancing himself. He is a court favorite, and 
exactly understands the temper of the upper classes m England. 
He is the ornament of a fashionable chapel in Mayfair, and his dis- 
courses are a melange of religious and secular comment, a fusion ot 
art, literature, and science, dished up in the style of the popular 
journalist, presented to his patrons iu a pleasant and easily intelli- 
gible form. 

AH this time the doctors have been waiting. Some of these suc- 
cessfully, if unconsciously, cairy their professii'U into the social 
circles in which they move. Before 1 give any instances ot this I 
should like to point out the peculiarly favorable position which the 
men of medicine occupy. The influences of the age are in their* 
favor It is in England the epoch of introspection. The English 
are always thinking that something is wrong with their moials, or 
with their conscience, with their digestion, or with their lungs. 
They are perpetually inditing or causing otliers to indite, homiliea 
on the deterior.ition, physical or ethical, of their race. As a matter 
of fact, perhaps nowhere in the world will you find men and women 
in such perfect health as in Loudon society. If it is nut polite to 



■64 SOCIETY IN LONDOX. 

speculate mucli as to the welfare of their souls, they are always 
soliloquizing on the condition of the carnal envelope of those spirit- 
ual organs. In tact, the attention which was once— or, it it was 
not, ought to be — spent upon their ghostly sanity is now spent upon 
their stomachs. This is the doctors' opportunity. And since every 
one has his or her pet ailment, the physician is a power to an extent 
which, when what I hnve called introspection was not. quite so 
much the rage, was impossible. 

The influence ot doctors on diet is everywhere conspicuous. It 
is the fashionable thing for ladies and gentlemen in London society 
to carry about with tnem a list of piohibited dishes and drinks, very 
often rigidly to abstain from all in which they once most lavishly 
indulged, because their doctors have placed these pleasures ot the 
palate under their ban. 

The disciplinary precepts of physicians must, 1 think, have bad 
f\ considerable effect upon the trade ot wine merchants. Yet, it 
They have checked that commerce in some quariers, they have ex- 
panded it in olhers. Indeed, there are certain doctors in London to 
whom a peculiar vender of wines is as necessary an appendage as a 
chemist. If you consult one apostle of Galen he will tell you to 
forswear everything except a port of a particular vintage, procurable 
only at an address which he will give you, and which he straight- 
way proceeds to write down. Another oracle of the profession 
admonishes you that it for the space of six months you touch any- 
thing but a beverage concocted out of grapes erown in some inac- 
cessible vineyard in a remote corner ot Europe you will be a dead 
man. That wine, he coufidenlially ailds, is the exclusive specialite 
of a firm in the City, or the West End, which will not supply 
casual customers witli the precious fluid. You, however, shall be, 
thanks to his recommendation, a privileged person. His card— and 
here he gives \ou one — will be the " open sesame " to the cellars 
which contain the true elixir of lite — the one and only antidote to 
gout and liver complaint, dyspepsia, consumption, cold in the head, 
and blue devils. 

Thai London doctors can and often do make the fortune ot 
watering-places, or ot places as tan en of water as the Great Sahara, 
there can he no doubt. Bath, whither 1 went some weeks ago, has 
had quartered upon it for some time a large contingent ot London 
society. The town, which is one ot the most beautiful in England, 
is experiencing a blissful revival of its glories. Its mineral springs 
have been brought into fashion again because the doctors* who 
speak with authority, have discovered that all their ancient virtues 
have returned to them. Other spots may ere long enjoy the same 
good fortune. The enchanter in the shape of the M.D., who has a 
following, has but to wave his wand, pronounce his incantation, 
and the spell is complete. It would be an excellent investment, if 
one could ascertain betimes the localities destined to find favor in 
the doctors' eyes, to buy up house property in the district. 

Curiously enough, the physicians who are chiefly responsible for 
the asceticism, now the vogue in many circles, are \\\ey who mingle 
most in society. 1 suppose there is no one w^ho has terrified more 
persons into total or partial abstinence from intoxicating fluids than 
Sir Andrew Clark. Yet that distinguished doctor is freqently to be 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 65 

met 'with at the dinner-tables of the great and wealthy. Nor, so far 
as i have been able to observe, does he exclusively restrict himself to 
some aeiated water, qiialitied by the most trivial intusion ot Scotch 
whisky. lie is a shrewd student ot human nature, as well as, 1 
<loubt not, a considerable man ot science — this canny Aberdonian. 

Some years ago he conveyed to Mrs. Gladstone a deep impression 
of his poweris. Mr. Gladstone recognized in him a careful doctor 
and a good High Churcliman. The combination pleased tlje present 
Prime Minister, and Sir Andrew Clark's tame and fortune were as 
irood as made. His happy faculty ot oracular utterances, the solemn 
aphoiisms with which he e.liuclics his counsel to his patients, the 
sonorous platitudes with which he emphasizes the simplest of san- 
itary maxims, his quick eye, the kind severity of bis manner, the 
air of judicial sympathy with which he interrogates those who 
come to see him upon their maladies, the calm deliberation, the sys- 
tematic shimuing of the semblance of haste — these are the qualities 
which cause London society to repose confidence in Sir Andrew 
Clark. Moreover, he is, when encountered m the dining-rooms 
and drawing-rooms of the metropolis, an agreeable and companion- 
able person, with plent}^ of anecdotes and a gift of humor, the point 
of which is heightened by his Scotch accent. Su- Andrew Clark is 
a typical physician of his period, justly contident, doubtless, in his 
acquaintance with the Briti&h pharmacopa'ia, but confideDt rather 
in. and accomplishing more by, his comprehensive and microscopic 
knowledge of human nature. 

Sir William Gull is endowed with ail Sir Andrew Clark's com- 
mand of noble and sagacious sentiments. If his prescriptions could 
be sometimes dispensed with it is worth pa-^ ing a couple guineas 
for tnem. in order ro store one's memory with the wise saws and 
modern instances of which he is full. His presence is more that ot 
the ideal doctor than Sir Andrew Clark's. You could not, wherever 
you might see him, mistake him for anything but a doctor; where- 
as Sir Andrew might equally well be a lawyer, a farmer, a school- 
master, or a parson, [le plumes himself on his i)Ower of probing 
the secret hearts of his patients to their lowest depths by eagle 
glances and by pregnant and pithy pieces of professi'^nal senten- 
tiousness, enunciated in a melodramatic undertone. His manner 
is as perfectlv calm and collected as is to be found in phleiimatic 
England itself. He can be kind as well as courteous; but whether 
he is simply tlie latter or whether he infuses into his demeanor 
something of the former, noihing appears to proceed from the 
spontaneous emotion of the instant — everything is prearranged. If 
he is not as great a doctor as many hold him to be, he is a marvelous 
piece of human machinery. 

The more purely social side of the medical profession is dis- 
played by men like Dr. Quain and Sir Oscar Clayton. The latter 
of these 1 should pronounce without hesitation the nearest approach 
to the Court physician of a century since, now extant. He is at- 
tached in his professional capacity to the household of the Duke ot 
Edmburgh, but as it was once said of an historical head master of 
Eton, that one could not help having a respect for a man who had 
whipped in his day the whole bench'of bishops, so one's admiration 
lor S'r Oscar Clayton is increased by the circumstance that he has 
3 



66 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

physicked, for more or less serious, more or less noble, or ignoble^ 
ailments the principal members of the aristocracy of England. It; 
otteii occurs to me as 1 look upon this little knight of the lancet — 
■well stricken in years, well made up, radiant in hair dyes and cos- 
metics, the secret of which rests with himself alone, deferential and 
insinuating in manner, with all sorts of stories calculated to suit 
every variety ot audience, from a prelate to a demirep, at his dis- 
posal—that the spirit ot the courtly leech of the Grand Monarch or 
of the Caroline restoration in England must be enshrined in him. 

Of Dr. Quain, certainly one of the most distinguished children 
of ^sculapius— alas! that the child should now be lapidly march- 
ing toward the gaol of septuagenarianism— it may be said that he 
is a cheery, kindly, genial, and ixifted Irishman first and a graat 
physician afterward. Heaven forbid that when 1 say this I should 
hint anything lilve disparagement at that most worthy of doctors, 
that most stanch, omniscient, and fluently conversational of friends! 
Indeed, Dr. Quain is not only a Hippocrates of vast experience and 
profoundly Bcientific attainments, but a medical writer ot the high- 
est authority. He has produced within the last few years an en- 
cyclopsedia'of medical Knowledge. How he found time for such a 
clief d'ceuvre is the standing wonder to his friends. The explanation 
doubtless is that the doctor has an extraordinary appreciation of the 
value of time and diet for industrial purposes. He never loses an 
hour or a minute. The evenings that he gives to society recruit his 
energies tor toil, and there is, 1 am informed, authentic testimony 
on record that Dr. Quain, after an evening spent with convivial 
friends, prosecutes his editorial labors, liieraiy or scientific, till the 
bell rings for matins— a religious service that he usually makes a 
point of attending. 

He is a perfect treasure-house of miscellaneous anecdotes, equally 
charming and various as host or guest, with a professional acquaint- 
ance ot Dien who have made their mark in all departments of life, 
which has usually ripened into a personal friendship unprecedented, 
1 should think, in the history of the Royal college of Physicians. 
Heveral decades of Loudon life have not destroyed his rich native 
brogue, but rather chastened it. He lakes that easy view of life 
peculiar to prosperous, and for ihfA matter unprosperous, natives of 
the Emerald Isle. He is, in a word, a medical philosopher of the 
Epicurean type. 

Dr. Moreil Mackenzie is too entirely devoted to his professi»)n to 
have much time to epar-e for the social distractions of Sir Oscar 
Clayton oi Dr. Quain. He is probably one of the most gifted 
specialists in Europe, with one of the shrewdest heads on his shoul- 
ders. For these reasons he is not too much beloved by the members 
of his own fraternity. He is, however, as kindly as he is clever, and 
hospitable upon a big scale. This hospitality he shares in common 
with— though between the entertainments of the two men there is 
no similarity— Sir Henry Thompson. The former is renowned tor 
his big banquets; the latter for hrs small select parties, at which the 
number is strictly limited to eight. He calls them his octaves. At 
these you will find a company well assorted and easily amaleamat- 
ing, dishes judiciously chosen, and sound wine. Sir Henry Thomp- 
son, who is indebted "for his knightnood to the surgical skill which 



socif:ty in londox. 67 

be exhibited ia operating on the august person ot the King of tho 
Belgians, is also an accomplislied artist, and many of the most pleas 
ing pictures which adorn tlic walls i)f his house arc from his own 
brush. He is an aesthete rather than an apohiust. lie delights iu 
whatever lends charm and elegance to life, lie takes the same sort 
of pride and care in his cellar, although he never touches wine, that 
a scientilic floriculturist might take in liis greenhouses though theii 
contents never had a place in his drawing-room vases. 

Each ot the four doctors whose names 1 have last menlioned dis- 
charges distinct social services by bringmg ihe members of various 
social sections into mutual communication. Politicians, litterateurs, 
artists, actors journalists, professional men of all grades find them- 
selves in each other's company under the auspices of Quain and 
Clayton, Mackenzie and Thompson. Thus we have a quaternion 
of doctors who. in addition to the benefits they confer upon human- 
ity by the exercise of the healing ait, supply in the plenitude of 
their amiable thouglit fulness that social cement which causes so- 
ciety's various parts pleasantly to cohere. Such ma-'ters of medical 
science as Sir William Jenner and Sir James Paget constitute a mora 
solemn class in the hierarchy of physicians. The latter is specially 
in favor with the Whig aristocracy, and the former is much occu- 
pied with the Queen. 



CHAPTER Vlll. 

LONDON SOCIETY, POLITICS AND POLITICIANS. 

Statesmen in society— Political hostesses: Lady Salisbury, Lady Aberdeen, 
Lady Rosebeiy, Lady Breadalbane, Gladys, Countess of Lonsdale— Mr, 
Gladstone in public and private— Mrs. Gladstone. 

If there is no society in England which can be called distinctly 
political, politics are themselves as a department of society. Just 
as society iu London is. as 1 have previously explained, a condi- 
tional guarantee ot political union; so even amongst politicians the 
claims of society r.re equal to, or paramount over, the duties of 
statesmanship. 

With very few exceptions, most of the public men in England, 
who, whether in or out of office, direct its allairs, lead a dual exist- 
ence— h:ilf devoted to the business of the countiy, the other half to 
the pastimes and functions of fashion. It may be said that this is 
true of public men in any other European Slate, but it is not true to 
the same extent. i\Ir. Gladstone and Lord Granville each of tliem 
attach intinilely more importance to the ordinances of society than 
Prince Bismarck or M. Jules Feiry. I'hey both dine out and en- 
tertain regiUarly; and if Mr. Gladstone ia, as he is universally de- 
clared to be, one of the hardest workers of the century, he contrives 
to reserve a marvelous amount of energy for the small talk of the 
dinner-table and the drawing-room. The London season is coinci- 
dent with the Parliament session, and from February to July the 
dinner-parties and other entertainments arranged for the amuse- 
ment of the politicians and their belongings exceed the sum ot those 
given in all the other Europenn capitals. Sometimes it happens that 
Cabinet ministers who are expecteil at dinner, and who have been 



68 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

long waited for, are prevented by stress of Parliamentary business 
from appearing; but that is tbe rare exception; and in a general 
way tbe dinner-party and tbe evening reception are institutions not 
less stereotyped and sacred in tbe London spring and summer than 
tbe sittings of tbe commons or tbe peers. 

Tbe leaders and rulers of parties only set an example which is 
faithfully followed by their interiors and subordinates. Politics and 
society in London thus go band in hand; and it the public business 
of the British empire does not much sufier from the arrangement, 
its influence is still discernible. English ministers and their oppo- 
nents may protest that relief from work is a necessity, which no one 
denies. But do they take Iheir relief in the most efticacious form? 
One hears periodically that Lord Granville is laid up with the gout, 
or that Mr. Gladstone is sutteriotr from nervous exhaustion. I can 
not think that these ailments are invaiiably due to the fatigues of 
oflSce. Lord Beaconstield was not in oflice when be died, but tbe 
physicians, 1 believe, were of opinion that it was the multitude of 
dinner-givers wiio hastened his end. 

It seems inevitable that statesmen who insist on crowding so much 
work and enjoyment into their existences must sometimes be placed 
at a disadvantage, with the foreign Slates, whose officials, when 
they are not occupied with tbe loutine of their departments, are re- 
invigorating themselves by rest taken in the way that their taste 
suggests, and are not merely exchanging the excitements and exhuus- 
ti oris of office for those of society. The more 1 have watched En- 
glish Ministers, the more have 1 become convinced that many of their 
worst errors of omission or commission come from the fact that they 
do not pass their time wisely; that they attempt to do too much; 
and that the regard they feel bound to pay to the ceremonials and 
distractions of society diminishes their energies for business, causes 
their vigilance to relax, and betrays them into those slips of which 
an astute adversary like tbe German Chancellor is not slow to take 
advantage. Aftei all, it is impossible for any one, peer or com- 
moner, in or out of ofRce, to live tbe pleasant, luxurious, yet excit- 
ing life ot London society without having in some shape or other to 
pay the price for it. 

One word more by way of preliminary explanation. While all 
tbe best society in London is in some degree political — contains, 
that is to sa)^ men who belong to the Legislature, have been or are 
Ministers, and are keenly interested in {be fate of parties; women, 
whose titles, if they are of tbe nobility, are charged with political 
associations, or who are indebted for such social position as they 
have lo tbe political influence of their husbands— there is no section 
ot society which will be found political in the sense in which the 
stranger may expect. Upon ordinary occasions, that is to say though 
every person present may be a politician, politics are seldom talked^ 
and it is deemed a breach against tbe law of good taste, the unwrit- 
ten decalogue of society's etiquette, to touch upon partisan matters 
in mixed assemblies. Tbis^rule is sometimes relaxed amongst men^ 
but tbe feeling is unfavoral)le to its relaxation even then. 

The reason is simple. First, Englishmen hear so much of pol- 
itics which they can not avoid that they humbly pray for and wel- 
come a respite from them whenever possible. Secondly, heated dis^ 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 69^ 

cussions on political topics might prove instrumental in destroying 
the harmony ot the gathering. They are therefore dangerous. 
Thirdly, to talk politics, to proclaim one's own political taith and 
argue against one's opponents when politicians are off duty, is 
looked upon as a mark ot the enthusiast, and in London society the 
enthusiast is considered to be only one degree less intolerable, it 
even that, than the bore. Of course one must be prepared to find 
great houses in London labeled with the epithet Whig or Tory, 
Conservative or Liberal. The mansion ot the i\Iarquis and Mar- 
chioness of Salisbury, in Arlington Street, is a Tory establishment, the 
mistress ot which has been known to pique herself on never cross- 
ing a Whig threshold, and is conscious ot the mission, imposed oa 
her by circumstances, ot a grande dame of Toryism. The Salisbury 
dinners may be compared to Conservative tables dilute. I'hey are 
entertainments ot the most orthodox constitutional kind. Not per- 
haps very vivacious, but distinguished. 

Sir Stafiord and Lady Northcote also discharge, though upon a 
more modest scale, their social and hospitable duties to tlie Conserva- 
tive party; and there are several other hosts and hostesses who en- 
deavor so to regulate their hospitable rites that they shall redound 
to the credit and advantage ot the constitutional cause. With scarce 
an exception, however, the first idea in their minds is the purely 
social, and the political object is subordinated to that, just as the 
wife ot the aveiage member ol Parliament, or ot the gentleman who 
is ambitious ot being a member ot Parliament, thinks more ot the 
attention paid her by the peers and peeresses, on whose side she is 
poiilicttll}' ranged, than ot the vote given by her husband in the 
House of Commons. 

Lady Stanhope and Lady Kidley, the wives respectively ot Earl 
Stanhope and Sir Matthew Whyte Ridley, have both of tliem made 
praiseworthy attempts at creating Conservative salons. The ladies 
ot the Liberal party have been more assiduous and successful in 
their attempts in this direction. Lady Hayter, the wife ot Sir Ar- 
thur Hayter, has made ner beautiful house in Grosvenor Square the 
social head-quarters ot Liberalism. Her husband is a pleasant, amia- 
ble man, though his normal bhindness is sometimes agitated by a 
curious petulance. His father was the most laborious and peremp- 
tory ot Whigs whom the Liberals have ever known, and his son has 
himself served in that capacity. But the old Adam of the heavy 
dragoon has a large part in his nature, and almost eclipses the Lib- 
eral official. Lady Hayter is the fair embodiment of the genius of 
Liberal partisanship, one of the best dressed women in Loiulon, and 
gifted with all the graces ot a born hostess. She is connected by 
ties ot birth and personal frien(iship with one or two powerful Con- 
servative families, and one may see the two parties in the State, with 
their various subsections, represented in almost equal proportions, 
not, indeed, in her dining-room, but in her reception mlons. 

Lady Rosebery will, perhaps, now that her husband has been 
•^jazetted a Cabinet Minister, make Lansdowne House the focus ot 
social Liberalism. But one may be quite sure that almost as many 
Conservatives as Liberals will be welcomed by her ladyship and her 
lord. 

Lafly Aberdeen and Lady Breadalbane both respond with admi- 



70 SOCIETY IN- LONDON. 

Table alacrity to the appeal, periodically made to tliem. to invite the 
wives and daughters of the gentlemen who support Mr. Gladstone 
with their vote to their houses. It is a difficult and a somewhat 
graceless task. The cards ot invitation are practically issued, as they 
must necessarily be, by the official understrappers ot the party. 
These are acquainted with the husbands, but know nothing ot their 
womankind, and are apt consequently to be betrayed into absurd 
mistakes —supplementing the name ot Mr. Smith with those ot 
Mrs., Misses and the Miss Smiths, when the former may be dead 
and the latter either in the nursery or else have long since changed 
their names. 

It is difficult not to restrain an emotion of pity when one sees the 
h( stesses, \^ ho thus patriotically exert themselves for the good of 
their party, standing for hour after hour at the door of their draw- 
ing-rooms and welcoming with all possible show ot cordiality guests 
whom they have never seen before, whom they pray they may 
never see again, and whose names they have failed distinctly to 
catch. 

In no respect is the difterence between the two English political 
parties more marked than in that proportionate tn the magnitude of 
the Liberal party as a whole. The Conservatives, on the other hand, 
have a social organization adequate lo all their wants. It is to be 
found first in their clubs, where all section's of Conservativism, 
leaders and tollowers, associate upon equal terms. Amongst the 
Liberals the chief go to one set of clubs, and those who owe allegiance 
to them to another. Again there are many energetic spirits amongst 
the ladies of the Conseivative paity who spare no effort to make the 
wives and daughters of the 'parvenus, actually in Parliament, or anx- 
ious to get into Parliament, on the Tory side, at home. The wives 
and daughters of Liberal M.P.'s on the same social level are neg- 
lected or cold-shouldered, or treated only with frigid and conveii- 
tional civility by the grandes dames of "Whiggism or the smart 
ladies of Liberalism. Consequently those who enter political life, 
as many do, at the promptings of social ambition— to gratify, for 
Instance, the ladies of their family— can count upon a more definite 
social reward by joining the Conservatives. 

If the great Conservative ladies are exclusive, they still take more 
trouble to please those whom it is politic to conciliate than the great 
Whig ladies; and there are also among the Conservatives manyhost- 
esseswho, while not being perhaps of the first caliber, are still ener- 
getic and patriotic. Hence discontent, heart-burnings, and jealousies, 
purely social in their origin, abound among the Liberals, This, so 
far as 1 have been able to judge, will continue to be the case until 
the Whig clique which dominates the councils ot Liberalism is 
broken up. When a Liberal Government is in power it is the old 
Whig families— the Cavendishes, the Spencers, and the Russells — 
who are first consulted in the economy and the arrangements of the 
party. Even Mr. Gladstone, popular force as undeniably he is, has 
made and tried to make no alteration in this respect, his social sym- 
pathies beins in the main with the opulent and cultured Whiers. 
And the Whigs geneially, be it said, aie cultured in the best sense 
to a far greater degree th.in the Tories. There is better talk to be 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 71 

heard, and there are more interesting persons to be met, at their 
tables than at C'onservative houses of corresponding distinction. 

The most superficial study of London society sulTices to convince 
one that there exists among its ladies a considerable capacity lor 
playing the role of political host which has yet to be utilized. 
Gladys, Countess of Lonsdale, mijiht, under proper auspices, be- 
come a social center of real political power. She possesses, and iti 
the days of Lord Beaconsfield often displa3'ed, the gift of receiving 
guests with grace, dignity, and ease. But her attention and interest, 
are difficult to fix. and her perseverance is not equal to her natural 
ability. The tendency siie illustrales is common enough. AVhen 
ladies, and especially young ladies, have the intelligence and esj)rit 
which quality them to take an interest in political matters, there 
are sure to be many other things which have an equal attraction tor 
them: either they make amusement of every kind their first object, 
or they are animated with a desiie to enthrone themselves as the 
idol of a little coterie ot votaries. 1 could mention halt a dozen 
wives of Liberal politicians whose political tastes find their gratifi- 
cation in gathering round them at their dinner- table, or at some 
other place, politicians of distinction or ot promise. This is a per- 
fectly intelligible feminine instinct. But it is the very opposite of 
that which organizes a society round itself and establishes a salon. 

Thus much by way of introduction. Let me now approach the 
individuals who have a place in the political S3'stem of England. Ot 
Mr. Gladstone so much has been written and said that it is almost 
hopeless to add anything at once fresh and true. 1 may perhaps 
■venture to predict that when in years to come his character and 
career ate impartially estimated, it will be deemed a wonder thai a 
statesman whose greatest achievements are of a strictly official kind, 
ana confined to the department of finance, should have acquired so 
unchallenged a power over his countrymen. 

Perhaps he would not have succetded in doing this but tor the 
institution of the penny pi-ess. Some thirty years ago the paper 
duties were taken oil, and ati impulse was given to cheap journalism 
in England, the like of which can be found in the history of no 
other country in the world. The " Daily Telegraph " led the way. 
It appealed to the emotions of the multitude. Like Byron when he 
sat down to write '* Don Juan," it wanted a hero; without such an 
object of adoration, concrete and visible, hovv could the enthusiasm 
ot the nation be worked up to fever heat? It discovered what it 
wanted in ]\Ir. Gladstone. lie was the depository of the financial 
traditions of Peel. Unlike Peel, he possessed attributes calculated 
to stimulate and fire the popular imagination. He was not only, as 
was Peel, an accomplished scholar and a man of unblemished char- 
acter; he had done what Peel never did— he had made fervid 
speeches on the beauty of fieedom, and had identified himself with 
the cause of liberty in every part of Europe. His name was full ot 
meaning to GreeKs and to Italians. 

All this, combined with Mr. Gladstone's unbounded fluency of 
speech and fertility of rhetorical resource, presented fine scope for 
journalistic treatment. The " Daily Telegraph " not only made 
itself by acting as the apostle of Mr. Gladstone, but made Mr. Glad- 
stone as well. 



72 SOCIETY IJf LONDON. 

Gradually the strain of jubilant panegyric was echoed. Even the 
"Standard," though opposed to Mr. Gladstone's politics, had no 
sooner become a penny morning newspaper than it hymned in a 
minor key, with frequent variations of ceusure and condemnation, 
Mr. Gladstone's glories. The penny press was springing up every- 
where in the provinces. It was in the main Gladstonian. 

1 do not doubt for one moment that, had this remarkable person- 
age lived in an age in which there was no press at all, he would, by 
dint of his prowess as a debater, his mental grasp, and his other 
magnificent qualities, have risen to a high place, ptrhaps the 
highest. But if the press in England has any influence, Mr. Glad- 
stone himself must admit that the penny press was the foundation 
of the unprecedented ascendency he eventually acquired. 

The position of Mr. Gladstone, as his career draws to a close, will 
be always remembered as an instance of the irony of fate, malignant 
beyond precedent. Purely a domestic administrator and financier, 
lie has been called upon to deal with affairs of which he has no 
knowledge, and for the treatment of which he is totally without 
aptitude. He may be compared to a nineteenth-century Falkland. 
" Non-intervention " was the cry with which he came into oflBce in 
1880. The European concert was to be the guarantee of unbiokon 
peace. What has actually been witnessed? The histor}'- of his 
•Government has been that of a series of interventions; England has 
been once more dragged into the vortex of foreign politics; and 
under Mr. Gladstone's auspices his country has been committed to 
wars more sanguinary and costly, less profitable and lioDorable, than 
during any other period of the century. In comparison with the 
foreign policy and enterprises of the English Premier, M. Ferry's 
Chinese enterprises have been an unqualified and a clieap triumph. 

But because his achievements have fallen so much tielow the 
standard of his expectations, because destiny has fought against 
him, and proved too much for him, is Mr, Gladstone on that ac- 
count dejected? On the contrary, although he may experience some 
passing emotions of chagrin and a pious resentment against circum- 
stances, he cherishes the comfortable conviction that both what he 
has done and what he has abstained from doing are right. Facts 
may be against him, but then so much the worse for the tacts. His 
view of foreign politics is that every male child born into the world, 
whether Indian or African Mussulman, Egyptian fellah or Zulu 
Kaffir, Azteck or Esquimaux, is capable of being educated into a 
free and independent elector for an English borough. Parliamentary 
institutions and representative government are to him, not only the 
supreme end at which to aim, but the regime to which ail nationali- 
ties are instinctively capable of adapting themselves. He makes no 
allowance for differences of race or climate, historical antecedents, 
national peculiarities Herein he displays a lack of imagination, 
which is more strange seeing that he possesses a largo allowance of 
the imaginative faculty in other respects, and that he is really poet 
first and statistician afterward. 

Particular causes have combined to confirm this defect. Mr. 
Gladstone has spent his life in the House of Commons, and can not 
imagine a political system or a scheme of popular rule, without as 
accurate a copy as conditions permit of the English representative 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 73 

f'Jhamber. Again, he understands the En.£;lish people so well, he 
has so completely irtentitied himself with the ideas and aspirations 
ol the upper class of houvgeomc, that he considers it scarcely worth 
while to attempt lo understand any other race. If he attempts such 
an intellectual process he can only measure the unfamiliar by refer- 
ence to the familiar object. 

Mr. Gladstone has drunk too deeply of the atmosphere of idolatry 
and incense by which he has been suriounded. flis immense ex 
perience of public life, his great capacities as a financier, his moral 
earnestness, his reliirious fervor, his scholarship, culture, and con- 
versational powers have procured for him enthusiastic worshipers 
in every section of the community — among the lower classes, among 
the men of commerce and business, among the \Vhig aristocrac}' 
with whom he has been educated, and who nave long since seen in 
him the bulwark against revolution, among the clergy of the Acgli- 
can Church and the Nonconformist ministers, finally among ceitain 
small and exclusive divisions of London society itself. Ko man can 
receive the homage that has fallen to the lot of Mr. Gladstone dur- 
ing so many years without experiencing a kind of moral intoxication 
and forming an excessive idea of his own infallibility. Nor is it 
good for him that domestic interposition should ward oft the hostile 
expressions of opinion in the newspapers not attached to his cause, 
but which may nevertheless represent the views of a certain section 
of the English people. 

In social life Mr. Gladstone consorts chiefly with the more or less 
exclusive coteries of VVhiggism. He stays at the houses of the 
great nobles of his party and entertains them at his own country- 
seat. In London he gives occasionally dinners to a mixed company 
of members of the House of Commons and a few of his extra-par- 
liamentary friends. He also entertains strangers, admirers, intimates, 
and celebrities or notorieties at breakfast on Thursday. The meal 
is of the most uncompromisingly Britisu character: the hour is ten. 
Here the visitor may meet an operatic prima-doiina, or a popular 
actoi, or an editor, or a litterateur, or Madame de Novikoff, seated 
between a Whig peeress, stifl and frigid as an icicle, and an Anglican 
preacher such as Canon Liddon. The combination is kaleidoscopic, 
both in its variety and monotony, and always incongruous. 

Mr. Gladstone and Mrs. Gladstone do'not trouble themselves 
greatly about the amalgamation of their guests, and both are 
systematically indifterent to their a.ssortment at table. Of the many 
warm Irieuds whom this extraordinary man possesses among the 
"Whig peers of England, the stauchest is perhaps Lord Spencer, 
whose belief in Mr. Gladstone amounts to an enthusiasm. Mr. 
Gladstone has also always had the warm support of the house of 
Cavendish. The Russells upon one occasion were, 1 be-ieve. readv 
lo form a cabal against him. Pcrluips matters never went quite to 
that length, but the Duke of Bedford is a confirmed cynic, and 
might without any serious thought of evil have taken a perverse 
pleasure in pleasantly plotting against his leader. There is no mem- 
ber of London society who says as man}' good things, who is the 
author (-f as many mots as acid and biting, who impresses one with 
a deeper notion of his disbelief in human nature generally, than his 
Grace of Woburn. 



74 SOCIETY IN" LONDON. 

Lord Rosebery and Lord Aberdeen have together entertained 
Mr. Gladstone more frequently than any other two subjects of the 
English Crown, Before the English Premier all doors fly open. 
His hosts compete with eacti other, and are honored by his presence 
beneath their roof. It is, 1 hope, not impertinent to say that Mr. 
Gladstone has been the reverse of reluctant to bestow this lionor 
upon those to whom he considers it is due. He assumes, no doubl 
rightly, tliat the distinction of receiving him is competed for with 
jealous rivalry by many qualified persons. To save them trouble he 
himself selects whither, when he wants change, he shall co. In 
his way the cumbrous machinery of invitation is dispensed with, 
lie asks his hosts, he does not wait for his hosts to ask him. He 
may be compared in this respect to the ladies in leap-year, who on 
every 29th of February are supposed to avail themselves ot their 
prerogative of making love and offering marriage to the gentlemen. 

Only perhaps a lady of the peculiar type of Mrs. Gladstone could 
manage this as gracefully as she does. Mrs. Gladstone is the elderly 
incarnation of guileless naivete, the matronly essence ot impulsive 
simplicity. She is to appearance all artlessness. 1 have heard per- 
sons, who, I think, ought to know better, speak disparagingly of 
Mrs. Gladstone's sagacity because of these little peculiarities. Be- 
lieve me, they make a great mistake or they commit a great injus- 
tice. Mrs. Gladstone is, in her way, one of the cleverest women liv- 
ing. Her existence has been a semi-public one for halt a century. 
During that time she has been brouglit into contact with the most 
distinguished of Englishmen and Englishwomen, from royalty 
downw^ard. A silly woman— any woman, indeed, but a remarka- 
bly clever one— must have perpetrated under these circumstances a 
host of blunders. Mrs. Gladstone has steered clear of all. At the 
very worst she can be credited only with a few small inaptitudes 
•which, if they really deserve that name, are in perfectly artistic 
keeping with her character. Here is an excellent and, as she is re- 
puted to be, most unsophisticated lady, who, for 1 know not how 
long, has been the depositary of the most intimate secrets of Stale. 
VYhen, 1 ask, did she ever show herself so far the victim of femi- 
nine communicativeness as to betray or to hint at any one of these? 
1 have heard ot ladies and gentlemen, very astute in their own esti- 
mate of themselves, who have endeavored to extract earl}' knowl- 
edge of public matters from Mrs. Gladstone; 1 have never heard of 
one who succeeded; and her aplomb is as remarkable as her discretion. 

Here is an instance. Two years ago, when Mr. W. E. Jb'orster 
had resigned his portfolio in Mr. Gladstone's Cabinet, he was natu- 
rally anxious to hear how the Prime xVIinister would speak of the 
incident in the House of Commons, and not less naturally anxious 
to listen without being himself observed. He therefore did not take 
his ordinary place in the body of that assemblage, but made ids way 
into the ladies' cage, or ralher that portion of it which is set apart for 
the lady friends ot the wife of the speaker. Directly he had entered 
he perceived that the sole occupant of the department was no less a 
person than Mrs. Gladstone herself. She was the one person whom he 
would have avoided seeing. He felt a little discomposed, and was 
pioceeding to evince his discomposure in the rngued, spasmodic 
Tvay peculiar to that flower of Quaker subtlety. But Mrs. Glad- 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. YD 

Stone wns perfectly nl her case. She held up her fiu<;er at him, and, 
shakin*: her head witl) an air of irciitle reproval, muttered in a low 
voice, "Naught}'! naughty!" I have only once in my experience 
of Enjilislimeii or Enj^lish women h< iird unythin}; at all comparahle 
to this; that was when Lady Waldeiriave — now, alas! der.d — asked 
Lora Beaconsfield whether he intended to dissolve in the lorlheom- 
ing autumn. " Perhaps," she said archly, " you have another sur- 
prise in store for us." Tlie impassive earl was silent for a moment. 
He then looked her ladyship stiaight in the face, and in a tone half 
oracular, half bantering, which J shall never forget, said, " Oh, you 
dear!" 

Mrs. Gladstone has exhibited a not inferior dexterity in her man- 
agement of Mr. Gladstone himself. She understands precisely how 
to humor him and how to diet hini. what friends to encouiage, 
whom to piotect him against; what social eccentricities are i>ermis- 
sible as a safety-valve for his overflowing spirits and superabundant 
vigor. The English Premier is a very caieful eater, and has pub- 
licly announced that every morsel of animal food w liicli he puts in 
his'raouth requires, for the purposes of digestion, thirty-three— or is 
it thirty-one?— distinct biles. Mrs. Gladstone therefore t.ikes caie 
that he should always eat slowly. Again, his internal economy 
enables him to be indifferent to the quality of the wine, hock, or 
champagne which he may sip at dinner. He takes veiy little of it, 
but he enjoys a couple of glasses of good port afterward; and Mrs. 
Gladstone takes care that the good port is never wanting. In the 
same wa}' as regards his friends, and especially his lady friends, 
Mrs. Gladstone never thwarts his tastes, and perhaps one of the rea- 
sons of the English Premier's sempiternal frephuess is that he can 
disport himself in what social pastures he will witlioul domestic fear 
or lep'oach. 

Of Mr. Gladstone's manner and conversation in society different 
opinions are entertained. He is a voluble, eager, interested, and ap- 
parently omniscient talker upon every topic whicii may suggest 
itself. Whether he is equally accurate and profound is auoriier 
questitm. 1 once heard a Japanese gentleman who had dined in hi* 
company, and had listened to him while he held forth on every sub- 
iect, Japan itself included, exclaim: " What a wonderful man is 
Mr. Glijdstone! He seems to know something about everything, 
except Japan." For myself 1 can not say that this most encyclo- 
pedic »»f septuagenarian statesmen has ever struck me as parliculaily 
entert lining. He assumes too much, though in the least aggressive 
way, of that papal infallibility against whicli he once wrote a 
pamphlet; and when he takes a'seat at a private dinner-table he i& 
apt, quite unintentionally no doubt, to pose, even in iiis small talk,, 
as the symbol of traditional authoiily against which there can be no 
appeal. The selection of his familiar friends may also appear a lit- 
tle odd. He loves to liberate his soul to extremely comironplace 
Deople. There are of course his old Eton and Oxford friends, his- 
Oxford and High Church friends, his Whig and aristocratic friends, 
all of whom are respectable and some of whom may be distinguished; 
but then in addition to these he commands a petty contingent of 
satellites, sycophants, and toad-ealers, who are picked up from the 
pavement. 



76 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 



CHAPTER IX. 

STATESMEN IN SOCIETY. 

Lord Hartington— Ladies in London society classified— Lord Salisbury— Sir 
Stafford Northcote— Lord Carnarvon— Lord Cairns— Lord Craubrook— Lord 
Lj^ton— Lord Abergavenny— Mr. Spofforth— Lord Lathoms — Lord Barring- 
ton— Lord Rowton— I^ord and Lady Wharncliffe— Dukes of Leeds, Man- 
chester, Argj'll, Devonshire, Northumberland, Abercom, St. Albans, Marl- 
borough— Lord Randolph Churchill— Mr. Gibson— Mr. Plunket^Sir Henry 
Drummond-Wolff— Mr. Gorst— Mr. Balfour. 

So much, then, for Mr. Gladstone and his social metier. Let me 
record my ideas on the character and position of the second states- 
man in the Liberal party. One of the superficial differences be- 
tween Lord Hartington and Mr. Gladstone is that whereas the latter 
is ill the best society of London and England, the former is of\t. 
If the two were to retire into private itfe to-morrow, Mr. Glad- 
stone's seclusion would be that of a digniried scholarship, bordered 
with an academic and even an aristocratic fringe. Were Lord 
Hartington to do so, the transition would be simply from statesman 
ship tQ society; one element only would have dropped out of his 
life. With the friends and acquaintances of whom he knows most, 
and Vvho know most of him, he woiild he as great a man, as consid- 
erable a social force, as he now is— some might say even a greater. 

As Mr. Gladstone has his resources and occupations in theolog}^ 
hymnology, and archceology, so is Lord Hartington fond of society 
and sport. He is a great noble and a zealous turfite. Five years 
ago he resigned the stewardship of the Jockey Club to become a 
Secretary of State. To-day, 1 think, he would resign, il his sense 
of pride and public spirit allowed him, thp Secretaryship of State to 
become steward of the Jockey Club. He would not surround him- 
self with savants, scholars, and ecclesiastics after Mr. Gladstone's 
heart; he would only enter more unrestrainedly into the enjoyments 
of which, as matters are, he partakes spaiingly. Thus lie would 
figure more frequently in that patrician set presided over by the 
Prince of Wales. He would pay more attention to his stud and his 
pleasures. The drawing-rooms and dinaer-tables, the bright par- 
ticular stars of which in the ranks of English womanhood are the 
Duchess at Manchester, Lady Lonsdale, Lady Charles Beresford, 
Lady Randolph Churchill, Lady Mandeville, Lady Hamilton, and, 
when she is in London or England, Lady Kildare, would see him 
at less frequent intervals than is now possible. 

The society in which Lord Hartington moves, and in which he is 
most at home, is not primarily political at all, and in his company, 
politics— as is indeed' natural, seeing that there are probably three 
Conservatives for one Liberal in it— are systema.tically avoided. It 
would be too much to say that he enjoys society; he is rather recon- 
<;iled to it; he acquiesces in it, even as he acquiesces in, and is recon- 
ciled to, the politicians with whom he has cast his lot, the exalted 
station to which he has been born, and the prospect of the dukedom 
which awaits him. Lord Hartingion's manner is suggestive of a 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 77 

semi-contemptuous prMt'St against everythiuc:, poMtics and society, 
the Hous;e ot Commons ami the House of Lordrt. " But," he always 
seems to be saying to himself, " it is not my fault; liovv can I help 
it?" He is the embodiment of le " spleen;" he is the embodiment 
also of English common sense. 

Lord Hartington is often criticised for his manner. Unquestion- 
ably it is peculiar. When he enters a room, where a party is assem- 
bled for dinner — which ho seldom does save as the last comer— he 
ignores most of those in whose presence he finds himself. Some 
may fancy he wishes to avoid them, others, more idiotically sensi- 
tive, may'impiite to him a design to cut them. But it \^ not so; 
Lord Hartington merely illustrates one of the most pronounced teod- 
t'ncies of English society, viz., to shun demonstrativeness of any 
kind. He hales, therefore, whether on arriving or leaving a house, 
to plunge into a perplexing maze of hand-shakings, nods, and bows. 

One of my compatriots once fairly summea up the air and de- 
meanor of this disliniiuished nobleman when he said to JUi Englisn 
friend, " What I principally like about yoiu' Lord Hartington is his 
you-be-damnciiness." He has hauteur, but he has not insolence, 
for insolence implies something which is ill-bred or underbred, and 
no one can accuse Lord Hartington of being either. He says little, 
and presents to most people tlie front of an impenetrable reserve. 
Not infrequently he breaks his silence by a laugh, half hearty, half 
suppressed, partly cynical and wholly good-natured. He is au En- 
glishman to the "backbone, and he understands and manages, cer- 
tainly better than Mr. Gladstone, and probably belter than any other 
Englishman could, that peculiar amalgam of prejudice and shrewd- 
ness, passion and judgment, emotion and sound sense— the House 
of Commons. 

To see Lord Hartington at his best, to form an adequate notion 
ot the innate strength of the man, you should watch him at a critical 
moment in the popular Chamber. The members of this assembly 
are bound together by a ceitaiu organic unity of sentiment which 
justifies their comparison to a huge animal, subject, as such mon- 
sters are, to rapid alternations of excitement and quiescence, phleg- 
matic indifterence, and keen attention. When a bore is on his legs, 
this portent ot complex vitality seems to stretch itself out at full 
length, and only to remind one of its existence by snorts and sibila- 
lions of impatience. When it is irritated or disturbed it lashes out 
with its tail, or its bristles stand up erect on its back, or it hisses be- 
tween its teeth and threatens to become dangerously unmanageable. 

It is at these moments that Lord Hartington asseits his strong as- 
cendency over it. Up to that time he has tolerated its absurdities 
and viewed with a lenient eye its grotesque petulance. " But now," 
he seems to say, " he will have no more nonsense." The many- 
headed brute understands him in an instant. The same rappm-t is 
established between him and it as between a fractious lion in the 
Zoological Gardens and the keeper with the irresistible eye, or be- 
tween the horse-tamer and the quadruped just reduced to obedience. 
Phlegm, spleen, and fire arc combined in Lord Hartington's com- 
position in the proportions exactly suited to dominate and impress 
the English people. 

One often hears wondei expressed that an aristocrat like Lord 



78 SOCIETY IN LONDON". 

Hartington should consent to act with the Radical and revolutionists 
with whom it is said he associates. Tlie reason of it is his cynical 
contempt for his social inferiors, whatever poliiica! label Ihey may 
bear. They are, in fact, in his disdainful estimate, alike canaille', 
what is there to choose between themV And the answer which Lord 
Hartington gives to this question is, " Absolutely nothinir." Asked 
once whether political demonstrations ought not to be forbidden in 
Hyde Park on Sundays, he replied, with a characteristic sneer whicli 
had in it nothing that was aftected, ofitensive, or insincere, that he 
could not for the life of him see why if you were to admit a well- 
dressed mob into the park on week days you should exclude from it 
a less well-dressed mob on the Sabbath. No sentiment could have 
shown more plainly the opinion he holds of human nature general- 
ly, and of English political nature in particular. 

He continues to act with the party of which he is a member lor 
two fuither Reasons— one tiis honorable sense of loyalty, the other 
the hard practical sense of the lon^-headed Anglo-Saxon. It is not 
in him to desert those with whom he is identified. Were he to do 
so, with whom could he throw in his lot? "Would not his public 
career be closed? Would he not be surrendering the position which 
as an "English noble he ought to hold? Would he not be untrue to 
the traditions of his order? Secondly, his worldly wisdom con- 
vinces him that to part company with the Radicals would be to 
efface himself. They are essential to him. Politics with him are 
not mere matters of opinion, but means to tangible ends. He has 
nothing of the visionary in his composition. Convince him that a 
measure of which he disapproves is necessary, and he acquiesces, 
though, doubtless, in a grumbling and discontented manner. That 
is his way. He is the Devil's Advocate of the Liberal party, with 
a mind quick to raise all sorts of objections, which he formulates in 
raspingly querulous tones. 

Is he a populai man? On the whole, yes. First, because he is 
a lord, the heir to a great dukedom, and Englishmen love a lord. 
Secondly, because he is fond of the turf, is a man of pleasure, with 
a dash of lioeitinism in his composition, and Englishmen like to 
feel that their leaders have the same passions as themselves. Lord 
Hartington has never, perhaps, resisted feminine influence with re- 
lentless obstinacy, and a few venial escapades of his youth are fond- 
ly remembered by his countrymen and endear him to their heart. 
The true-born Briton, Puritan and hypocrite as he may be, prone 
to worship or affect to worship respectability with the same idolatry 
with which a Greek Christian prostrates himself before his stocks 
and stones, or a tawny savage before his fetish, still loves a viveur; 
and the knowledge tiiat Lord Hartington, proud as Lucifer though 
he may be, reserved, contemptuous, and scornful, is at bottom not 
absolutely adamant, has something attractive about it for the 
masses. This, too, was the secret of much of Lord Palmerston's 
popularity, as it was of Lord Melbourne's before him. There is no 
instance, so far as 1 am aware, in English politics or English society 
in which it does, or has done, a man — peer or commoner— any harm 
to be known that a lady, not necessarily his wife, is, to use the cant 
term, a factor — or, should it not be, a factress? — in his existence. 

Tlie ladies who can venture to play this critical and delicate part 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 79 

re very few, must be absolutely sure of their position, and must 
;ive the ait, which only high station, birth, breeding, or extraordi- 
uary natuial poweis can develop, of never violating appeiiiances or 
ofiendiug decorum. It 1 may venture upon the difficult task of 
classifying ladies in Loudon society, 1 shouhl do it as tollows. Fiist 
come those of the irost indisputably aristocratic ton — ladies of birth 
and title, such 2S they whose names 1 have already mentioned, and 
shall have occasion to mention again. It is the larest thing in the 
world tor any one of these to make openly a faux pas, and the 
penalty for such a blunder is usually ostracism for life. Place for 
penitence there is none, and the great lady wlio, by an indiscretion, 
has fallen ixovtx her high estate has no alternative but partial solitude 
it she stays m her own countiy, or exile to that society which lies 
perilously close to the borders of the half world if she goes abrgad. 
She becomes, in a word, dedassee. In Psris and Rome, as in many 
otiier cities and pleasure resorts of the Continent, instances of these 
fair patrician exiles are not unknown. 

The second order of ladies in London society may be described as 
the Parliamentary, political, and official. These, it is needless to 
say, are one and all paragons of virtue. JMot only no suspicion but 
no shadow ot a suspicion has ever rested upon them. Cornelia her- 
self was not a better mother; Griselda not a more exemplar}^ wife. 
Their husbands are sometimes peers of inferior degree, or ot dimin- 
ished fortunes, sometimes baronets or simply untitled members of 
Parliament and officials of the Crown. The wife of ihe Speaker of 
the House of Commons is at the head of this section of London so- 
ciety, even as the Speaker hiniselt is known as the first commoner 
in England. The ladies I now mention go to all the entertainments 
given at the great houses upon State occasions. In their turn they 
entertain the leaders of their party, the bishop and the more promi- 
nent of Ihe clergy (when these divines happen to be in town) of their 
diocese, and the' better sort of Civil servants. They rise or sink in 
the scale of social importance according as the parly to which their 
husbands are attached, is in or out of office. Officialism is to them 
the atmosphere from which Ihey derive the nutrition necessary to 
social existence. 

The third place in this classification may be assigned to those la- 
dies in London society whose position is recognized^ who may often 
be seen at the very first houses in the capital, who are bidden to the 
banquets given by high Ministers of State, embassadors, diploma- 
tists, nay, royalty itself, but whose position is, nevertheless, not as- 
sured in the same way as that of those composing the two classes 
previously mentioned. May 1 venture to indicate the ladies of whom 
1 now speak by the French compound dcmi-cador? — la lionne pauvre 
would imply more than I mean. I assume that these have all the 
advantages of birth and breeding, and upon the rigid propriety ot 
their life who can make any impulation? But somehow or other 
they are not quite strong enough to lead an entirely unsupported 
existence, while a London establishment and London toilets are heavy 
drains upon a limited income. They nave, indeed. Husbands on 
whom they can lean; but, alas! how frequently do the exigencies of 
business or the not less imperious demands of sport compel that 
gentleman to be from home. He has a railway concession to nego- 



80 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

tiate in the East, or property to look after in Siberia, or a vineyard 
to superintend in Spain, or a tramway to lay down in Damascus. Or 
else the turf is necessary to him, and there are race meetings he 
must attend, and visits at the country-houses of noble fiieuds which 
he must make for that purpose. Or pernaps he can not breathe free- 
ly in the oppressive atmosphere ot London. He pines for the air of 
the iroor and the mountain, ot the loch and the sea. His enthusi- 
asm is for yachting, fishing, hunting, shooting; and his wite, with 
noble unselfishness, allows him frequent spells of prolonged liberty. 
Nor is her temporary widowhood without its consolations. Sue 
visits and is visited a great deal. Her house is perfectly appointed. 
Dinners she does not give, but a fe\V friends occasionally lunch 
with her, and upon these occasions the company is as much with- 
out fear and without reproach as Bayard himself. Moreover, she 
is certain to .have one or two stanch lady friends belonging to the 
first or the second categories at which 1 have already glanced. 
These constitute her protectresses, her guardian angels; and should 
it ever be unjirstly insinuated that she is not exactly as Caesar's 
wife ought to be, theii reply is as prompt as it is conclusive. " Poor 
little woman," they say, " she has been badly treated. She is leaily 
the best and stanches! of her sex." To put it differently, she 
thrives and conquers on the suge:estions of persecrrtiou. The very 
mention of her name beco^ies a tacit appeal to the chivalry of man- 
hood and womanhood. She is one ot London society's canonized 
martyrs. She has passed through the ordeal of that diaholi achocatus 
who is allowed to have his say before canonization is conceded, and 
henceforth any attacks made upon her recoil upon the aggressors. 
She always seems about to topple over the precipice; sometimes 
she does; usually she contrives to maintain her eqirilibrium. 

There is a fourth class of ladies, more or less accredited to society 
in London, difteiing in some important respects from any of the 
foregoing. This consists of Jadies whose temperament is known as 
artisHc. Sometimes there are elements in their nature or circum- 
stances in their social position and antecedents which establish a 
link of^afiinity between themselves and the ladies who belong to any 
one oi the three former orders. That is to say, they may be great 
ladies in virtus of their birth and relations; or they may be f 
ladies attached to the official and political connection, anxious to 
strike out a career for themselves and to win a position independent 
of and additional to that which belongs to them in the natural course 
of affairs. Or there may be spread over them just that glamour of 
equivocal, perhaps compromising, romance wirich intensifies ilie 
interest it is natural to take in the weaker sex. But art, or possibly 
science, dominates their whole social environment. They live in an 
atmosphere of artistic ideals. The society w^hich they entertain, 
and by which they are entertained, if its backgroimd derives its hue 
from the class of which they naturally form part, is shot through 
by a hue lent to it by the peculiarit}', the bazarrerie of their tastes. 
Possibly some inconsiderate persons may expect me to associate witli 
the classification of ladies m society here given individual names. 
Host respectfully do 1 decline to do anything of the sort — for two 
reasons. In the first place, tor those who would recognize the pro- 
priety of the names, to mention them is superfluous; the names will 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 81 

occiii to them readily enough without being specified. In the sec- 
ond phice, to those to whom the classification does not suggest the 
names, the mere enumeration of them would tail to convey any idea 
at all. 

Lord Salisbury's nature is traversed by a vein of contempt tor 
the rest of the world, as pronounced as that of the tuture Duke ot 
Devonshire But llie scorn of the Tory leader is of a more intel- 
lectual quality. Not that he lacks the sentiment of pride of birth, 
thouL':h he conceals it with an air of deferential courtesy which has 
remiude<l some of his friends of the family physician. His ap- 
pearance is imposing. Tall, strongly buili, with something of the 
scholai's sloop in his shoulders, with well-cut features, and a face 
largely covered with black hair, with a manner half mysterious, 
half melancholy, he is to the eye much the sort of person whom a 
milliner's girl might conjure up to herself after a course of novel 
reading as a typical nobleman — the patrician genius of melodiam.atic 
romance. He has tew, if any, intimate friends. Lady Salisbury, 
who enjoys the position, without perhaps the ideal aptitudes, of a 
f/rande dame — a keen politician and accomplished litterateur, gra- 
cious, kindly, amiable, if not a finished hostess— is his sole and 
paramount Egeria. 

Though ]^ord Salisbury himself wants those qualities which dis- 
tinguish the statesman, who is the leader of men, from the politician 
and the pamphleteer, the debater, the epigrammatist, the journalist; 
it may be that he will yet make his mark as a great Minister. At 
present he is admired, but he does not attract. The field is still 
open to him, and if he can once settle to his satisfaction that the 
game is worth the candle, and that it is premature to despair of po- 
litical life; if, in a word, hecan subduehis disdain for his inferiors, 
and temper his pessimism by a certain infusion ot faith in human 
nature, 'md in his fellow-countrymen; if he can stoop to a plebeian 
House of Commons, and simulate as much interest in his humble 
and, it may be, vulgar followers as in his laboratory at Hatfield — 
for Lord Salisbury is a man of science as well as of letters — he may 
accomplish the greatest things. 

Sir Stafford Northcote, Lord Salisbury's colleague in the man- 
agement ot the Conservative party, is a curious compound of the 
Government official, the academic, the country squire. In the first 
ot these capacities he is admirable. He was apprenticed to Mr. 
Gladstone as his private secretary, and the lesson taught him by that 
master of finance he has no more forgotten than he has been able to 
shake off the ascendency of the teacher, or to present himself in any 
other attitude than that ot the pupil. In action and in speech he is 
full ot ihe caution and hesitation ot an Oxford scholar. He is as 
terror-stricken at the idea of responsibility, as impotent to face an 
emergency, and to turn it to good account, as the most timid and 
procrastinating of Whigs. The utmost praise which can be given to 
him as a leader of the Conservative opiiosilion is that others might 
Lave done worse. He is supposeil to be a safe man. It is a ques- 
tion of opinion whether that is a term ot merit or reproach. 

Socially his manner is not good. He is alternately gauche and 
pedantic, familiar and distant. It has never occurred to him to 
adopt any system ot social procedure. Hp has not given a moment's 



82 SOCIETY IN" LONDON". 

thought to the laws which sway society, although he is, in his 
own judgment, formed tor society, a ladies' man, fascinatina:, irre- 
sistible, with a dash of Don Giovanni iu his composition. When I 
speak of his social manner, 1 refer to his demeanor in London 
drawing-rooms and clut)s. In the country, and especially in nis 
own western shire of Devon, he is extremely popular, affable, 
humorous, even faceiious, cracking his joi^es at the covert feide, the 
lite and soul ot a farmer's ordinary on market day. Altogether, a 
droll mixture of tl)e Treasury clerk, Sir Roger de Coverley, and the 
pantaloon on the pantomimic stage. 

It must be confessed that, with a few exceptions, the other mem- 
bers of the Conservative parly are somewhat deficient in human 
interest. Among the peers, the Duke ot Richmond, of whom 1 
have said somelhiog before now^ is a stolid, sensible John Bull. 
Lord Cairns is a great lawyer, a, capital orator, a first-rate de- 
bater; but his health is feeble. He is without the aristocratic de- 
scent which Tory peers, whatever they may say to the contrary, 
demand in their chief, and his legal eminence and legal habits ot 
mind are against him. Lord Cranbrook, both as speaker and party 
tactician, is full of fire; but he is desceniiing into the vale of years, 
and lives less in the present than iu the past. He is a splendid de- 
claimer, but too vehement and impulsive for a statesman. 

Lord Carnarvon has considerable qualities. As administrator of 
a department, and as the author of official statements, whether oral 
or written, he has few superiors. Very cultivated and refined, he 
has a manner w^hich is too mincing to inspire confidence. More- 
over, his action is apt to be incalculable. He is the victim of a 
mental and moral eccentricity, partly natural and partly the result 
ot the hot-house air in which he was from a boy brought up. As a 
consequence, he has devel(»ped a self-sutficiency and independence 
which assert themselves at the moments most inconvenient for his 
political friends. He is too largely preoccupied by domestic solici- 
tudes. He has married a second time, and seems to take the same 
interest in the young family he is now rearing as a bibliophilist in 
his books, or a coniioisseur of vintages in his cellar. The tirst 
Countess ot Carnarvon was a notable specimen of the English fine 
lady, and, had she lived, his subsequent career and character might 
have been difteient. Tsevertheless, though he wantB both grip and 
grit, he is, and will be, indispensable to any Conservative'Cabinet 
that may be iormed. He is rich and hospitable, and, while too 
fond ot surrounding himself by second-rate satellites, who play 
upon his 7anity, is a dispenser ot useful bounties tu aspiring Con- 
servatives, who like to feel that their host is a nobleman. 

Lord Lytton is almost too various, too cosmopolitan, seriously 
to take rank as a Conservative statesman. His manners are a cross 
between those of the Parisian exquisite and the dandy diplomatist 
ot Great Britain. The ladies whom he honors by his observations or 
his flattery pronounce him a singularly charming man. He has also 
been a successful one. As Yiceroy of lndia,"he was unpopular, 
save with his favorites, and, as few other Indian Viceroys have 
done, succeeded without much effort in setting the society of Eng- 
land's Asiatic empire by the ears. His temperament is pre-eminently 
that of the poet and vvriter. His dispatches, transmitted with ex- 



SOCIETY IN LOiVDON. 83 

ubcrant frequeucy to England, were models of ornate rhetoric, elc- 
iraut and tairly lucid slatements, and of a length cmirely unprece- 
dented. As speaker, he is voluble and sometimes etlective. He 
belongs by taste to the world of art and the drama; it is the irony 
of nature and the accident of his position whicli have contributed 
to make hini an aspirant for political place. He is a troubadour 
among officials, a pilgrim of passion in an age of uncompromising 
and prosaic fact. 

There are several engaging noblemen in the Conservative parly 
who ought not to be ignored. Lord Abergavenny is, in his way, a 
])0t('ntHte, a keen politician, though srldom or never speaking in 
Parliament; perpetually over head and ears in work and engage- 
ments, though there never seems any particular reason why h& 
should trouble himself to do anything; a triend and patron ot Mr. 
Spofforth, erewhile a party manager, with a passion for pulling the 
poli:ical wires and for returning members of the complexion he ap- 
proves to tlie House of Commons. He believes, and whatever action 
lie takes embodies this belief, that politics ought, even in this dem- 
ocratic age, to be kept as much as possible a game, the playera in 
which are the heads of the gieat titled housesr while the rank and 
file ot parties are the pawns they mo^^e. Lord Abergavenny is not 
only a puissant noble, but a popular landlord, and wnat the English 
familiarly call a capital fellow. 

• Lord Lathom is the possessor of an historic title and the noblest 
beard cultivated by any English peer. Lord Barrrington is raiher 
a skilled observer of the game of politics than a man wno takes a 
very active part in Hiem. He reverences, but not slavishly, the 
mt;mory ot his late chief, Lord Beaconsf eld, and he ciiticises the 
fihoitcomings of his successors in a breezily sagacious manner. 
Lord Rowton, Lord Beaconstield's former secretary and dine da miiee, 
visits the peers' chamber sometvhat fitfully, and supports with grace 
and even hilarity the burden of an honor unto which he was not 
born. Lord Wharnclifte and Lady AVharncliffe are both bulwarks 
ot the Tory party, but politics are with them subordinated to the 
cares of their position in fociely, and perhaps they are never more 
happy than when they are presiding over one of their beauty din- 
ner-parties at the family mansion in Curzon Street. 

1 am afraid 1 have said little or nothing about the great Dukes of 
England. But, with one or two exceptions, a duke in society is a 
rartty. 1 have never seen the Duke ot Leeds or the Duke of Man- 
chester in my life. The Duke of Argyll is magnificent as an orator 
ami politician, and in the former capacity always gives one the idea 
ot a Scotch dominie in a sublime frenzy. The Duke of Devonshire 
is very little in Loudon. The Duke ot Northumberland among the 
Tories is only visible upon State occasions. The Duke of Abercorn 
lives, 1 think, entirely in the bosom of his family. The Duke of 
St. Albans is a cheer}', sensible, steady, kind-hearted man of busi- 
ness, and the husband of the most charming of Duchesses. The 
Duke of Marlborough has material in him for half a dozen reputa- 
tions. He is a chemist, mathematician, traveler, and linguist. He 
studies politics with aids to knowledge that few men possess. He 
can both write and speak. Existence is still before him, and With 



84 SOCIETY 1^ LONDON. 

concentration, and the ballast which experience ought to supply, 
he will make his mark and become a force to be reckoned with. 

The most atlractive ligure among younger members ot the Con- 
servative party is beyond doubt that of the Duke of Marlborough's 
brother, Lord Randolph Churchill. "With his audacity, his 
insouciance, his impetuosity, his vehemence, and his occasional cool- 
ness, more exasperating than his vehemence— in a word, with his 
fresh and vivid personality, he stands out in delightful relief from 
among the humdrum mediocrities— decorous, plausible, heavy— by 
whom he is surrounded. His political life is one of perpetual war. 
He is either assaulting the enemy from without, or assailing his 
friends within. The sword he wields is double-edged, and directly 
it has smitten a foe, hip and thigh, it recoils to cleave the skull of 
an associate. Sir Eichard Cross and Mr. W. H. Smith are com- 
monplace Englishmen of the middle class — bourgeois nonentities 
whom Disraeli used to find convenient as a foil. Lord John Manners 
is the very pink and quintessence of a Tory gentleman, getting on 
in years; a chivalrous spirit, incapable of doing or thinking a mean 
thing, and without any of the qualifications which the leader of a 
party ought to possess. Sir Michael Hicks-Beach is reputed to be 
a strong man. He has a will and a temper of his own, a fine pres- 
ence, a good voice, a tenacious and a natural appetite for work. 
Lord George Hamilton was once described by a high authority — the 
present Lord Sherbrooke— as the best of the young men who had 
entered the House of Commons during his time. But he has done 
little more Ihan prove himself industiious, a dashing but uncertain 
speaker, apt at arithmetic and statistics. Mr. Edward Stanhope is 
intelligent, but prim. Mr. James Lowther resembles an overgrown 
schoolboy, and his character is summed up in the familiar abbrevi- 
ation of his Christian name, " Jim." 

Mr, Gibson and Mr. Plunket are two pleasant, popular, and ac- 
complished Irish lawyers, each presenting a marked contrast to the 
other. Mr. Gibson is famous for his white head, his tluenl, fearless 
utterance, his Irish brogue, his spirit and energy, and, in all matters 
oulside the region of his professional or local knowledge, his copi- 
ous imagination. Y^hen, for instance, he essays, as he sometimes 
does, to speak upon questions of foreign policy, he may be expected 
to arrange a combination of tacts which, it it often evokes a cheer, 
sometimes spoils an argument. He has all the fire of his race in its 
most developed form, says droll things in a droll way— sometimes 
fiententious, at others purely frivolous- is a capital companion, and 
universally liRed. 

Mr. Plunket is a man of more polished manner, more subtle in- 
tellect, and a far higher gift of Parliamenlary oratory. His speeches 
are invariably welcomed in the House ot Commons, and he has a 
slight hesitation in his voice, of which he often makes a consum- 
mately artistic use to accentuate his points. But he has two fail- 
ings; the first the zeal of an Irish Protestant, which he may sup- 
press, but of which he can never divest himself; the second an in- 
curable love of ease. He gives up to pleasure what was meant for 
politics: and as he has the taste, so he is often overcome with the 
languor nnd the lassitude of the refined voluptuary. He is a great 
diner-out and a finished mimic. 



SOCIETY IX LONDON. 85 

Lord Randolph Churchill is of a fiber, and is cast in a mold, 
clifTeient troni any of these. For some years he had a difficulty in 
inducing people to lake him seriously. It was only when he made it 
clear, b}' the applause which his speeches on platform received, that 
he was a personage in Ihe country, that his leaders considered it 
worth their while to treat him as one who might some day be their 
equal. He is on the lips of all men. Every feature of his counte- 
nance and characteristic of his costume would l)e recognized by the 
multitude in any town in England. Music-hall songs have been 
composed in his honor, his name is the cue for ailuiiring laughter in 
farces or opera-bouBes, the London cabmen and omnibus drivers 
are as well acquainted with him by sight as with Mr. Gladstone or 
Mt. Henr\' Irving. 

It is a face and a figure which once seen are not easily forgotten. 
The largely developed and carefully tendeil mustache, to the growth 
of which by constant manual treatment a peculiar turn and shape 
have been given; the large, nsiless. prominent eyes, observing 
everything, watching an adversary in the House of Commons, or a 
hostile disputant in private argument, as a cat does a mouse; the 
torehead somewhat low, but broad and strong, with the perceptive 
organs above the eyes almost abnormally developed; the pallid, 
blooiiless skin; ilie manner alternating between excess of lisflessness 
and excess of excitability; the temperament proud, highly strung, 
keen, sensitive, disdainful, forgiving, revealing itself "in every 
movement of the bodv, nay, in the very fashion in which the cigar- 
ette smoke is inhaled; the toilet somber in color, careful, and in 
good taste— these are the outward and visible signs or a character 
remarkable and interesting. 

Lord Randolph Churchill is a combination of coolness and of nerv- 
ousness, of dignity and of impudence, f f real earnestness and of 
cynical indifference to everything but the whim of the moment. He 
is always on the wings of elation or in the depths of ilepression, 
and when he takes tl>e calm and collected vip;v of aSairs which the 
statesman ought ahvavs to be able to command, it is because some- 
thing has occurred to damp his hopes. To be collected or tranquil it 
is i>ecegsary that he should be pensive also. He reminds one of a 
child who, when he does ni)t happen to be making a noise, is ill. 

\ et he is not quite as impulsive as he seems. He has a far keener 
eye to effect, and judges more deliberately the means necessary to 
produce any given effect, than those who watch him casually might 
think. From this it follows that he has made comparatively tew 
mistakes. When the newspapers in their articles, or society through 
its more staid and severe members, have remonstrated with him on 
his sallies, and Ins outbursts, it is probable that the critics have been 
wrong, and Lord Randolph Churchill has been right, A politician 
who is playing for his position must not stick at trifles, and the 
politician who aims at supremacy in a democratic aa:e must do 
something which will impress the democracy with the effigy of him- 
self. So far as principles are ccmcerned, the only approach to them 
with which Lord Randolph Churchill can ])e credited is a hasty 
generalization from experience ana expediency, which is always 
liable to be upset by a negative instance. As lie himself has said, 
the business of an opposition is to oppose, and it is only as a mem- 



80 SOCIETY IK LONDON. 

ber of opposition that he has j'et proclaimed his qualifications to the 
Ensilish people. To borrow a metaplior from the national game, he 
has shown that he can bowl; it yet remains to be seen whether ho 
can bat. 

His political sympathies are popular; his personal predilections are 
exclusive. It he has some of the arls of the demagogue, lie has 
much of the hauteur oi the noble. He resents familiaiity, and he 
has a pretty power of making that rci-entment felt by impertinent 
intruders who presume upon The most superficial acquaintance with 
him. As a speaker he is forcible, impassioned, always eftc^ctive, 
and sometimes eloquent. His facility ot expression is "^astounding, 
and nothing is moie noticeable in him than the literary quality of 
his rhetoric. He is quick as lightning in repartee, and, whether in 
social conversation or in the desultory wrangles of the House of 
Commons, the rejoinder follows upon the attack with thq, same 
celerity with which the tl'under succeeds the flash. It would be too 
much to say that he is a master of epigram, though the English 
apply that expression to many persons who deserve it infinitely less. 
But he has an inexhaustible fund at his disposal of original and au- 
dacious antitheses, of strange combinations of words and ideas, of 
bizarre involutions of phrase, which are no bad substitutes lor epi- 
gram. Tlie tone of his voice is powerful, though rather uncertain, 
and he speaks with something more than a suspicion of the aristo- 
cratip lisp. 

In private life he is asrreeable, hospitable, and sumptuous in his 
ideas of hospitality. Plis love for display and magnificence is only 
tempered by the perfect taste of Lady Randolph Churchill— one ot 
the most accomplished women in Loudon society, a finished artist 
and musician, and a perfect dresser— and himself. Everything in 
the Randolph Churchill establishment is comme il fm/t. The din- 
ners are never too large or too long. The dishes are always the best 
of their kind— perfect simplicity combined with the highest merit. 
Matters, too, are arranged on a princely scale, for Lord Randolph 
Churchill has all the inclinations of a grand seigneur. His house is 
one of the tew which possess the electric light. It costs him about 
fitteen times as much as any other mode of domestic illumination. 
But what of thalV It was the thing to have, and his lordship had 
it accordingly. I hope I shall not be accused of disrespect if 1 dare 
to compare him to Sarah Bernhardt. He has something of the 
genius, much of the emotional excitability, much of the same com- 
bination of opposite qualities, that belong to the incomparable artist 
who weds a husband for the sake of a caprice. Like her, he can he 
strenuous, energetic, industrious. In his case, as in hers, it is 
equally impossible to predict what he may do uuder any given but 
unexpected conditions. The love for the magnificent and the su- 
perb is not more developed in the one than in the other. Each is the 
child of passion and wliim, and each is also breathed upon by the 
divine afflatus of that indefinable something which men call genius. 

Lord Randolph Churchill is now, 1 believe, some seven-and-thirty 
years of age. He is thoroughly rang^. He has left behind him the 
social dissipations of youth, and it may be that he has shaken oft 
the political extravagances of that chartered period of existence. 
His health has improved, though it still requires looking after. He 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 87 

can not, 1 take it, cluiiuff the Parliamentary session aHord to jeacl 
the two lives \vhi(;li Lord llartington can manap:e without any in- 
convenience. It is re])orted of Lord IIartin<iton that seme years n^o 
— 1 think in the summer of 1880 — ho actually succeeded in getting 
to bed soon after midnight. Before he had successfully courted his 
first slumb<;r he was roused by a message from Downing Street. 
He has not since repeated the vain experiment of early bed- going, 
which, according to an Englisli pioverb, is one of the secrets of 
success. 

With Lord Randolph Churchill it is quite diflerent. During the 
Parliamentary session he orders his life witli an exclusive regard 
to the exigencies of politics. He entertains splendidly, and is splen- 
dily entertained by others. But when he is not kept up late at 
Westminster he wooes slumber at the first opportunity, and when 
lie can snatch a day's rest he spends it in the delicious languor of 
doing nothing except the smokiuir of cigarettes and the reading ot 
French novels. The two most normal phases ot his existence are 
those in which he is expending force in great efforts, or recruiting 
and recuperating himself after the cfloits have been made. Fortu- 
nalelv for him, he has arrived at a period of life when he under- 
stands something of the (tnctrine of the economy of strength. He 
avoids bores, and though for the sake of pleasing his friends he will 
strain a point and assist at entertainments which are a pain and 
weariness to him, he quits the scene of tedious distraction betimes, 
and contrives to enjoy more of the solace ot seclusion tlian most 
people. Formerly he used to be a great hunter and a keen whist- 
player, now his two chief occupations when he is on holiday are 
angling and the cultivation ot nirvana. 

Lord Kandolph Churchill has a large share of that personal 
power so ditficult to define, so easy to leel, so essentiall}' masfuetic 
in its operation, winch enables an individual to assert himself as a 
leader ot men. H there resiiies in him a strong repulsive force, if 
be offends as often as he conciliates, that suggests only the other 
side of those attributes in virtue of which he draws many persons to 
himself. !Mere jealousy sufficiently explains why some of his own 
party in the House of Commons are permanently estranged from 
him. Yet could there be a greater tribute to his innate potency 
than that even these feel his fascination? Among his opponents this 
fascination is an admitted fact. Mr. Chamberlain, notwithstanding 
one or two little ruptures of intimacy, is his firm and warm ad- 
mirer. Xor has he made any abiding enemies even amongst politi- 
cians who belong to his own party. He has indeed established a 
little party ot his own. Tiie droll thing is that the most useful and 
obedient members of it are two gentlemen considerably Lord Ran- 
dolph Churchill's seniors in years and in experience. 

Mr. Gorst is an extremely clever man; the same thing may be 
said of Sir Henry Drummond Wolff, who is, indeed, one of the his- 
toric personages ot his time. The former is an eminent mathema- 
tician and a fair linguist, ot well-balanced mind, and a keen eye for 
the points which in a controversy can be best made against an an- 
tagonist. The latter commenced life as a diplomatist. In that ca- 
pacity, and by virtue of bis family relations — he is on the maternal 
side a Walpole — he formed an extensive, miscellaneous, and pan- 



88 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

glot acquaintance. He has a mind stored with anecdotes suitable for 
various tastes. He is one of the few men in England who can tell 
a story equally well in French and in his own native tongue. He 
is, therefore, much in request in society, and frequently to be met 
"With in the best houses. He can be at times exceedingly amusing, 
but there are occasions w^hen he appears to be sunk in an atrabil- 
ious gloom. This is not due to the depressing influence of years, for 
Sir lienry Wolff, if he has rather more than completed his half-cent- 
ury, preserves Ihe guileless delight of a child in existence, and has 
the exquisite pink-and white complexion of which a young lady in 
her teens might be proud. 

The explanation, 1 am disposed to think, is that, notwithstanding 
any disbelief in human nature and human institutions which he 
jauntily parades; notwithstanding his tendency to treat everything 
as a joke or as a peg on which to hang a bonne histoire, he has 
always on his lips the exclamation with which Pitt is said to have 
died, " O my country!" 

Sir Henry VVolfi is a man greatly misunderstood. He is a patriot 
in the guise of a cynic; a moral philosopher and reformer who pre- 
sents 10 society the front of an epicurean inditterentist. He is at 
heart profoundly concerned for the state of the nation. Superior to 
all parlies, although a loyal Tory, he has ever before him the image 
of his fatherland. The frivolity "and the social corruption of the age 
often cause his brows to be overcast; and even when he most suc- 
cessfully attempts to drown his solicitude in mirth and pleasantry, 
1 have noticed a shadow pass over his countenance, like the cloud 
■which is mirrored in a sunlit lake, and which tells me that a noble 
melancholy has marked him as her own. At such times his 
thoughts lie too deep for tears and far too deep for words. He is 
rent by conflicting emotions. He is divided between anger at the 
social and political offenses of the day and bland compassion for 
the o Senders. 

Mr. Gorst succeeds in maintaining a more unruffled calrc. If he 
does not sparkle like Sir Henry Wolff, he is without his moody and 
dejected moments. His voice is r-mooth and flute-like, and he can 
say the most incisive things in the softest tones. Both of these gen- 
tlemeii are the counselors and lieutenants of Lord Randolph 
Churchill, who has profited in turn from the advice and varied 
knowledge of each. But it would be a mistake to suppose that 
Lord Randolph has ever subordintited himself to them, or tnat the 
initiative has not been his. Another member of the little coterie 
over which he presides, although not bound to him by the ties of a 
political allegiance so close as Sir Henry Wolff and Mr. Gorst, is 
Mr. A.rthur "Balfour, an elderly young gentleman of singularly 
charming manners, pleasant and well-bred appearance, over six 
feet in height, and with legs whose length lie is not always able to 
control, lie is a metaphysician, u writer, a cogent and clear-vis- 
ioned arguer, a nephew of Lord Salisbury, whose habit he can repra 
duce with felicitous fidelity. 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 89 



CHAPTER X. 

SENATE AND SALOIf. 

3Irs. Jeune— Sir Charles Forster— Mr. H. Edwards— Sir Thomas and Lady 
Brassey— Mr. Ro^er Eyk>-n— Lady Dorothy Nevill— Isabella, Countess of 
"Wilton— Lord and Lady Reay— Mr. Chamberlain- Mr. Goschen— Mr. Forster 
—Sir Robert Peel— The EugUsh political system. 

Theke are several houses in London at any one of which one 
may be sure to meet a certain number of political celebrities Such 
are the establishments of all persons in the first social rank who 
systematically entertain. Some of these have been ah'eady enumer- 
ated. Mrs. .leune, who as a hostess has a recognized position, when 
she does not dissipate her eflorts on Bohemianism, and whtu she 
arranges a dinner to which she attaches exceptional importance, can 
always secure a fair supply of ministers, ex-ministers, oi ministers 
yet to be. Sir Charles Forster is one of the chief Amphitryous of 
the Liberal paity; Mr. Gladstone is his frequent guest, and' politi- 
cians, whether attached to the opposite party or unattached, are to 
be found at his board. The same may be said of Mr. Henry Ed- 
wards, who has made a fortune in the linseed trade, and who 
primarily lives that others may eat and drink their fill. 

Then there are the Brasseys— Sir Thomas and Lady Brassey, 1 
mean. Their house In Park Lane is noted for overgrown dinner- 
parties and for the receptions which Jjady Brassey loves to designate 
by the epithet "small and early." Sir Thomas Brassey is reputed 
a good fellow. His manner is phlegmatic and fishlike. Perhaps 
the latter quality is the result of his extensive maritime experience. 
He bears no resemblance whatever in his countenance to his father, 
who was a man of decidedly distinguished appearance as well as 
enormous business capacities. He writes books, or is the cause ot 
writing books by others, lust as Lady Brassey writes journals which 
are presented to the public in the guise ot splendidly "illustrated vol- 
umes. Lady Brassey appears to order her existence upon the lines 
which may have been suggested by a social empress on the bur- 
lesque stage. She is ao excellent and exemplary woman in every 
relation ot life, as wife, mother, and sister-in-law; she, therefore, 
<^nly resembles the grand duchess in hw love of authority and cere- 
monial. She has a passion almost Oriental lor a retinue. She 
reminds one of the lady in the nursery rhyme, who, with rings on 
her fingers and bells on her toes, insisted upon having music wher- 
ever she went. The simplest journey is converted by her into a 
Toyal progress. There must be equipaires and outriders, the para- 
phernalia of a corterje. She would like that her arrival at any given • 
point should be announced by a peal of bells from the neighboring 
spire ot fifeu de joie. 

Devoted to " Tom " as she is, she prefers to make her pilgrimages 
by herself, accompanied only by her satellites. " Tom's " presence 
detracts from the attention which she excites, Tom nifiy well be 
content to follow in a modestly closed brougham, while her lady- 



90 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

ship reveals her imperial splendor, seated in an open barouche, ta 
the gapinj;- multitude. It is the same thini? when she goes to the 
theater or the opera, yhe has her people about her, and behind her 
chair tiiere is tolerably certain to stand Mr. Roger Eykyn, a stock- 
broker by profession, a hanger-on and a connection ot the nobility 
by a matrimonial accident. 

There are other ladies of the Liberal or Conservative parly, or of 
no party whatever, who deserve to be celebrated in these pages. 
Lady Hayter 1 have already mentioned: she is beyond all compari- 
son the great hostess ot the Liberals. Her house, with its exquisite 
dining-room, its perfect suite of reception-iooms, and its convenient, 
ball-room, lends itself marvelousl^ well to the ends of hospitality. 
Thought and judgment are also as apparent as amiable intention in 
the catalogue of the company invited to her dinners aud her even- 
ings. She has done in fact what very tew women in London have 
been able to do for their menage; she has succeeded in investing her 
entertainments with dignity and importance. In this respect she 
resembles, even though at a considerable interval, Lady Palmerston, 
who so contrived her reunions that every one assisting at them felt 
tliat he was indebted to his hostess for a compliment personal to 
himself. Lady Hayter is one of the most comme-il-fant ladies in 
London. Her toilets are the perfection of taste, and invariably 
serve with her as the frame ot a charming picture. She never dons- 
a bonnet or a frock, selects a color or jewel, without being satistied 
ot its applicability to the figure, face, and complexion with which 
nature has endowed her. Her presence is not lacking in dignity, 
and the charm of her expression is the more piquant because it pos- 
sesses a certain tinge of melancholy. 

Prominent among the eclectic and impartial entertainers of poli- 
ticians is J<ady Dorothy Nevill. She does not indeed give dinner 
parties, but has organized a scheme ot Sunday, and occasionally 
week-day, luncheons, much appreciated by those who have the 
entree of the house. Her ladyship is discriminatingly indiscriminate 
in her selection of guests, and makes with much success raids info 
Bohemia, returning now with an author or journalist of repute, 
now with an actor or actress. She knows everybody: has been the 
confidante of statesmen, field-marshals, bishops, and diplomatists. 
A projjos, note the difference thus indicated between the French and 
Englishwoman: the latter talks, advises, criticises; the former sits 
still and expects to be admired. The one asks for confidence, the 
other for homage. Lady Dorothy INevill hears everything. To her 
London society is one long whispering-gallery. She herself occu- 
pies a position midway down the corridor,and not a voice or foot- 
fall sounds without reaching her ears. She is also extensively popu- 
lar, and, straujre to say. she is liked by women as well as by men. 
She has made few enemies ot her own sex, or, if these exist, there 
is scarcely one who, from the knowledge that public opinion would 
be tiostile to her if she w-ere to avow her hostility, would dare to 
reveal it. The great charm in Lady Dorothy Nevill's manner is not 
merely its frankness and absence of affectation, but the union of de- 
tachment from the incidents and persons amid which she lives, with 
minute Knowledge of, and keen personal interest in, them. This 
detachment is a quality which at)peals to the intellect and charms. 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 91 

tbe imagination. It gives one the notion ot a reserve, a Ruppressed 
power of character, and has secured Lady Dorothy Nevill triends 
«nd admirers among men of the grealeft distinction ol the century. 
In politics she is a democratic Tory. As a Tory she touches liands 
■with and regales upon clarets and cutlets Sir Stafford Northcote and 
Lord Salisbury; as a democrat she is at home to Mr. Chamberlain 
or Mr. Bright; while in Lord Randolph Churchill, w)io is her de- 
light, she recognizes the connecting link between the two. When 
her company is a little perilously mi.xed, and the atmospheie 
threatens to become electrical, she takes care that there shall be two 
or three lightning conductors about her room, in the shape ot a Ut- 
terakur who will divert and disarm the destructive tiuid; or an 
artist at the critical moment concentrates upon himselt the attention 
of the guests, the heated r ontroversialists included. 1 his is Lady 
Dorothy Nevill's idea of a salon, and it is not a bad one. 

Isabella, Countess ot Wilton, is a hostess ot a different order, ]ess 
catholic in her tastes than Lady Dorothy Nevill, less various in her 
sympathies, but appreciative of other excellences than thoseot rank, 
social splendor, and beauty. An amiable and most hospitable lady 
this: consistently striving, too, while preserving the dignity of her 
feasts, to stamp upon them something of a character which shall be 
all their own. Lord Hartington, and those who are to be found 
where Lord Hartington is— the representatives of the diplomatic 
circle, the fine gentlemen and ladies who are accepted at the houses 
where samples of the best London society may at any moment be 
seen — these are to be met beneath thereof of Isabella, Countess, etc. 
Like Lady Dorothy Nevill, she is no respecter of political parlies or 
personages, though she is conscious of a special mission to enteitain 
embassadors. She may imagine herself a Tory, just as, from her 
conversation and the garniture ot French phrases, it might be in,- 
ferred that she at times imagined herself' a Parisian grande dame; 
but the former would be as muck of a delusion as the latter is ot a 
habit. 

1 may here mention the name of another lady of title, often to be 
seen m the same company as Lady Wilton — Maria, Marchioness ot 
Aylesbury. This perscmage is one ot the most famous institutions 
in London society; one of the most imposing monuments of the 
grandeur ot a past regime. Wherever dukes or peers of high degree 
entert:iin, wherev3r royalty deigns to show itselt. there will be seen, 
as there has l)een to be seen any time during the last halt century, 
the stately and unmistakable presence of Maria, iMjirchioness of, 
etc. Tlie tall form, the aristocratic countenance, the frizzled 
wealth ot the hair which in gracefully swelling protuberances deco- 
rates tlie side ot her head, the many-colored toilets, the miracu- 
lous head-dresses, and the unique arrangements of jewels— these are 
the outward and visible signs ot the lady who is more intimately at 
home in many great English households than any other of her sex. 

Lady Keay, who has recently left Eug and, accompanying her 
husband, the new Governor of Bombay, was, and no doubt will be 
again on her return five years hence, a favorable specimen of the 
political hostess. She has much ambition; that she has much clever- 
ness is proved by the career she has made for her husband, by liis 
conversion from a Scotch into an English pi-er, and by his appoint- 



92 SOCIETY lif LOi^DON. 

ment to an important pro-consulale. Formerly attached to the 
Liberal party, she is far trom being a mere partisan. She had 
caused her house to take rank as one of the best in London, and 
she has quitted England just as her social star was attaining its- 
ascendant. At Lady Reay's one might be sure upon occasions, at 
lunch or dinner on Sunday afternoon or at an evening party, to 
have met — though, indeed, foi that matter they are to be met at 
many othei houses the hospitalities of which are to-day in full 
swing — some of the most prominent members of the Liberal party. 

If in London society to-day the grande dame is seldom to be met 
with, 1 must not be supposed to assert that ladies of high rank, 
uniting dignity and sweetness, whatever is most attractive in charm 
of manner and of mind, are wanting. There is no European capi- 
tal where the superior of Lady Airlie, as a type of patrician matron- 
hood, the intelligent and tactful woman of the world, preserving,. 
now that her hair is silvered with years, much of the freshness and 
fascination of youth, can be seen. 1 might also point to Lady 
Stanhope and to Lady Lytton as veritable paragons and cynosures 
of their sex and order. Lady Holland is now little in London. 
But she seldom tails to pass some weeks of every summer at Hol- 
land House, Kensington— that monument to a departed social order, 
that depository of vanished social traditions. Her garden-parties- 
remain among the chief events of society's summer in the metrop- 
olis, and have lost none of the air of distinction wbich was their 
original attribute. 

Let me now revert from my social apergu to my political survey. 
Here 1 will suppose there stand before me— whether in Lady A's or 
Lady B's drawing-room does not much matter— three or four mem- 
bers of Mr. Gladstone's Cabinet, and a few other gentlemen who are 
either of Cabinet rank or are names with which a certain section of 
Uie European public is familiar. 

The gentleman with the smooth shaven face, the eyeglass, Ihe in- 
quiring expression of countenance, the hair brushed back, the lines- 
indicating will strongly defined in the neighborhood of the lips, is 
Mr. Chamberlain. His nose at once recalls the pictures and statues 
of tjie younger Pitt. Of Pitt's will he has much; Pitt's courage he 
shares; Pitt's high-toned patriotism he may j^et display, lie is an 
English statesman after the most approved fashion of the last 
quarter of the Nineteenth Century, first-rale as a man of business, 
prompt, ready, resourceful, courageous, courteous. 1 suppose no 
man after so short an experience of the House of Commons ever 
acquired such an authority in the country, or possessed an equal 
number of followers and enemies. With Mr. Chamberlain politics 
are not onl> the supreme object, but the one dominating aim of ex- 
istence. To these everything else is subordinated. He mixes with 
and is now well received by society in London, but, unlike some of 
his colleagues, he makes no secret of the fact that London society 
only occupies the second place in his aflfections, and that he will be 
no more subject to its constraints or obedient to its demands than 
may be necessary to his position or agreeable to his tastes. 

You will meet him at some of the most eligible houses in the 
capital. He also entertains a good deal himself, though, as he is a 
widower, his parties are limited to men. He has in London some 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 93 

staucli allies and even enthusiastic admirers amongst women; and 
the little kn<tt of smart ladies which includes, amoncst others, Lady 
Randolph Churchill, Lady Blanche flozicr. ;ue tond ot organizing 
entertainments of v^hich he is the chief oruameut iiml lion, lie is, 
in tact, in l^ondon society very much what, thirty years ago, Mr. 
Bright was in the political society gathered round the House ot 
Commons. The reality of him is Jess terrible than his name, and 
during the London season one encounters not a tew people who, 
haviug expected to find in Mr. Chamberlain some tierce and aggress- 
ive person, profess iheir astonishment at discovering him to be a 
very agreeable gentleman with a large stock ot couversationnl sub- 
jects, appreciative ot liumor, and light in hand. He is. hovevei. 
one ot the comparatively few English politicians who uaturnlly i.-nk 
about politics in society, and in a tone less cynical and more earnest; 
than society is accustomed to hear. 

For the rest, Mr. Chamberlain is a connoisseur of pictures, fond 
of the theater, especially of the French play when it happens to be 
in London, an enthusiastic smoker, and, as a consequence ot a capi- 
tal constitution and a figure with no tendency to tatty degeneration,, 
as superior as Lord Lyns himself to physical exercise, and as free 
from inalaise when that exercise is not forthcoming. Mr. Chamber- 
lain has many friends and admirers outside the limits ot his own 
party. He can appreciate abilit}' and courage, tactical skill and 
political capacity, in whomsoever these qualUies may reside and 
however bitterly they may be arrayed against him. Tories ot so un- 
impeachable a kind as Mr. Gibson, Mr. Plunket, and Sir Heciry 
Holland— to say nothing of Lord Churchill and Sir Henry 
Drummond Wolff— are among his most fi-equent guests. Between 
himself and Sir Charles Dilke, of whom 1 have previously spoken 
at some length, there exists the closest and most loyal intimacy. 
They stand together, and they would fall together'. The career of 
each depends upon reciprocal fidelity and mutual usefulness. One 
often hears comparisons drawn between the two men. The sugges- 
tion is even made that some day or other there may be developed a 
dangerous rivalry between them. Believe it not. 

Sir William Harcourt is a politician of imposing presence and a 
manner sometimes pompous, sometimes in a chastened fashion 
facetious. He is not only a Secretary ot State, but a squire ot dames, 
and can make himself an engaging compaaion to ladies of beauty 
or position. He is scarcely a popular man. Perhaps the general 
verdict of society would be that he is unpopular. That is because 
he unites to the hauffhty reserve ot the Enulisl; aristocrat and the 
English statesman some of the idiosyncrasies of the legal and the 
literary temperament. He has a larger knowledge of English 
literature than any man, Mr. Gladstone himself not excepted, now 
prominent in English political lite. He had won his laurels as a 
writer long before his name was known in politics or he had laid the 
foundations of forensic tame Unless 1 am mistaken, he wrote some 
exceedingly clever electioneering squibs as a mere lad. Subsequent- 
ly he struck out into journalism, and acquired as perfect a mastery 
ol the art as Lord Salisbury himself. 

Mr. Trevelyan is ilie only other member of Mr. Gl'^'' tone's Cabi- 
net who is identified with literature to the sauij exu nt as Sir Will- 



M SOCIETY IN LOliTDOi^. 

iam Harcourt, and in whose speeches traces of the same literary 
quality are foithcoming. He is the nephew ot Macaulay, and from 
his UQcle he inherited an admiring appreciation of the literary tra- 
dition of the Whigs. Since he has assumed the responsibilities of 
official life, he has proved that there is the stiifl ot a statesman in 
him. Mr. Lefevre. the youngest member of the Cabinet, has also 
Ibeen a writer of books and articles. There is nothing brilliant or 
showy about him. lie has great intellectual tenacity, has a native 
aptitude for administration, and is enamored of detail. 

The two most conspicuous among the unattached forces in English 
politics are Mr. Goschan and Mr. Forster. Neither of them can be 
felicitated on his manner. Both are men of considerable caliber, 
and with both, so long as they are alive, the Government and the 
•Opposition of the day must count. Both, too, are frequently to be 
met with in the dining-rooms and drawing-rooms of the great, and 
1 will venture to say that there is no one better acquainted with the 
political undercurrents ot society's thought and conversation Iban 
Mr. Forster or Mr. Goschen, Perfectly honest and sincere as the 
latter of these is, I am not quite certain that he is entirely fitted for 
the political life of Great Britain. He combines with the academic 
Isnowledse— 1 might almost say the omniscience— of an Oxford 
scholar and a German professor somethins; of the sinuosity of Ihe 
Oriental. That is to say, the constraints ot English party life, with 
the sharp and restricted choice ot alternatives that they offer, ap- 
pear irksome to him. The men who succeed in English statesman- 
ship must attach themselves to one party or the other, and must give 
up all idea of a rapprocliemeiit with the opposite side. Mr. Goschen 
understands this perfectly in theory, but he does not reduce the 
theory to practice. There is nothing disingenuous about him. He 
is not an intriguer: he is a philosopher— too broad, too judicial, too 
far-seeing to be a partisan. Though he may yet have before him 
in England a great future, I am disposed to think that he would 
have done better if his lot had not been cast so far west. 

If it be possible to conceiveot the genius of unadulterated, rugged 
veracity, at once anxious to impress the world that this is its real 
character and desirous of making f'iends with the mammon ot un- 
righteousness by appearing in dress clothes in drawing-rooms and 
by sipping tea of an afternoon with ladies of rank, Mr. Forster goes 
far to realize such a conception. Born a Yorkshireman and a 
Quaker, he retains the demure pharisaisms of his religion, and he 
brings into prominent relief the astute idiosyncrasies of his nation- 
ality. He has the eye ot an artist lor popular effects. The most 
cautious and reticent of cats can not long conceal from him how it 
will jump. He has, all praise to him, po closely and so transceu- 
■dently to his own satisfaction associated himself with whatever is 
honorable, fair, cUivahous. and noble, that he can never look in the 
glass without recognizing in his own image the reflected apostle of 
a holy cause. Inevitably, therefore, he magnifies his apostleship, 
and to magnify tl.at, what is it but to glorify himself? Every one 
who knows him is persuaded that he is the incarnation of great 
qualities. So firmly is he persuaded ot it, that he is incapable of 
believing that any qualities reside in him which are not great. Hence 
It follows that those who condemn or oppose him or stand in his 



SOClin'Y IN LONDON. 95 

way are not only vexing bini with a personal antagonism, antl irri- 
tating bini by wounding bis amour proprc, but are making war 
against righteousness itself, flow, then, can it be otherwise than 
his duty to visit witli the extremity of liis vengeance tliose who are 
guilty of this wanton impiety? and, be it s?i(l to his credit, he dis- 
plays all a Yorksbirenian's cieverncss in exasperating and annihilat- 
ing his foes. All \orKshiremen are reputed to be fond of lioises 
and of tlie turf. I have never heard that Mr. Forster is even a part 
owner of a racing stud; but be is so far a sportsman thai be is de- 
voted to whist — a noble game which he plays exceedingly ill, and 
at which his losses are somelinu-s luavy. 

1 have, 1 think, now fairly done duty to the political aspect of 
society in London. There is, however, one gentleman, more t3'pical 
of the race than some of those 1 have just passed in review^ about 
whom I can not be silent. Sir Robert Peel is the son of one of the 
greatest statesmen England has ever known; perhaps quite the 
greatest — Mr. Gladstone himself not excepted — as a domestic states- 
man. Illustrious in virtue of his descent, he is in virtue of himsell 
and his personal endowments an English celebrity. He had a roar- 
ing youlh; he has even bad a resonant n:anbood. He is the exact 
antithesis of his famous sire in almost every respect. The most 
remarkable exception is his real, though fiequently concealed, toler- 
ance of opinions the opposite of those which he professes, and his 
clearness of political vision. Calllny himself a Tory, no man knows 
better the shortcomings of the Tories, or has a deeper insight into 
the inevitable drift ot afCairs. In his speecbo? and in his private 
conversation he is a partisan, not infrequently a furious partisan. 
In his own mental estimate of men, of emergencies, and of the goal 
toward tv'hich things are going, no man is less of a partisan. 

lleiein lie resembles his fi.ti)er, who knew that it was by the irony 
of fate that he was placed in the position of leader of the lory party^ 
and that the tide was setting against Toryism as fatally and as irrev- 
ocably as the sun sinks to hi'^ rest in the west or the magnet points 
to the pole. In everything else what a contrast between the two I 
Sir Robert, the fathei, was the grave, reserved, tranquil worshiper 
of the British proprieties, with an inborn terror or hatred of any- 
thing verging on the unseemly or the scandalous, superstitiously 
reverencing the conventional. He was a model school-boy, a model 
undergraduate, a model member of Parliament. Whatever the virt- 
ues of his son, he has owned allegiance to few of those restraints 
which his father venerated. He has, between thirty and forty years' 
Parliamentary experience, 1 believe refused Cabinet othce, and has, 
I know, twice refused a peerage. But tranquillity is not his metier. 
He loves a stormy atmosphere. When tempest does not exist he has 
a knack of creatini;; it, and he would always be fain to ride in the 
most conspicuous position on the crest of the wave. He is a big man 
with a biii manner. He is no more to be ignored than the Arc de 
Tiiomphe itself or Mont.Blanc, or any other colossal eminence. In 
society he is the highly bred man of the world, but he never allows 
himself to be effaced, and when he is in the society of men only he is 
apt to be dogmatic, contradictory, paradoxical, rash, not invariably 
observing the line which sepaiaies s^lf-assertion from turbulence. 

Were he a little younger, 1 sbould predict that he would be the ac- 



96 SOCIETY lis^ LONDON. 

ceptecl chief to the Tory democracy. He could lire— no manbettr r— 
in a whirlwind of democratic movement. He likes to sway the mob, 
and the mob has no objection to be swayed by him. His voice is as 
fine as his presence, and he has a gitt of oratory which not a dozen 
men in England possess. Moreover, it is his special fondness digito 
monstrari. He is not only an indefatigable attendant at the House 
of Commons; he never misses any sort of meeting, secular or relig- 
ious, within a convenient distance of which he may happen to be, 
when there are no more pressing demands upon his time. Nothing 
pleases him more than to be gazed at as Sir Robert Peel, and when 
he is able, as is trtquently the case, while gratifying his passion for 
notoriety, to acquire an insight into popubir feeliuir, he is supreme- 
ly happy. With his velvet collar, his ta!! hat rakishly placed at an 
angle on his head, his demeanor dashing, dignified, defiant, and 
sportsmanlike, he suggests irresistibly the master of the ring at a 
circus; his natural and indomitable humor, his love of fun and pun, 
his .jesting audacity on the platform, tit him for the part of Mr. 
Meriiman. in London society he is often to be met with. His sister 
and brother-in-law, the Countess of Jeisey and Mr. Brandling, en- 
tertain much, and of course he visits them. He is on terras of in- 
timacy with the Rothschilds and Bischoffsheims; Mr. Henry Ed- 
wards rejoices to feast him; and, to descend to a slightly lower level, 
there is scarcely a house in London, belonging to those who inhabit 
the opulent portion of the frontier which separates society from Bo- 
hemij,, wheie he is not at home. 

"Whether among the politicians I have or have not mentioned there 
is any one likely to till a high place in the list of Europe's real slates- 
men, time must show. As yet ] can see little more than a number 
of clever political managers and schemers in the department of the 
home affairs of England. What productive forces are there inher- 
t'Ut in the democracy? Wliat power has it of implanting energy, 
^ud inspiring action, in individuals? How is the piinciple of au- 
thority at home and abroad to be maintained under its supremacy? 
How are its passions to be curbed or its inertness to be dispelled? 
AVlio or what will be adequate to its discipline? Or is this democ- 
racy to prove fatal to England as an imperial iState, and as a pattern 
und mother of constitutions to the world? These are the questions 
which are of vital moment both to Englishmen and foreigners. A 
few years must give the answer, but only a prophet could reply to 
them to-day. 

The gieat fact in the political situation in England is that the 
party system which underlay political life for three centuries has 
bio ken down. Its machinery is exhausted or hopelessly out of re- 
pair. Its energies are distracted. What was once a whole is split 
up into factions and sects, which reduce each other to paralysis and 
impotence. There is only one progressive principle at worlj in En- 
glish politics. It is Radicalism; it is the revolutionary spirit. 1 
see before me a rabble of followers led by a few daring, astute, 
perhaps uncrupulous chiefs. AVhat is the policy of these leaders? 
It is lo plunge everything into the crucible. The more disturbing 
the issue, the more prompt they are to raise it. Every cause they 
support is an interest attacked.. That is their universal method. 
Tbey depreciate values by threatening property. One day it is land; 



80C1KTV IN LONDON. W 

the next it is incomes, from whatever source derived ; wealth itself, 
because it is wealth, for which they propose a graduated tex. But 
to menace and destroy marks with them only the commencement. 
It is the essential preliminary to the process of loconstruction. 
Having brought landlords and the owners of arfy kind of property 
to despair, and to the very btmk of ruin, the Radical leaders turn 
round and say. " Halt! it is enough: we have satisfied you that you 
are in oui haiids, and that you ought to consitler yourselves fortu- 
nate if you escape, we will not say with an acre oi a sovereign, but 
with your lite. However, we will be merciful. We are a great 
party. We can, therefore, afford to be just, to be generous. You 
shall retain positively the better part of that which is your own, be 
it land or money. The rest is for the State, for the public good, for 
us. Do )'ou see in us your despoilers? Not so. Behold in us latber 
your saviors." 

Tliese, 1 repeat, are, so their enemies say, the tactics of the Kad- 
ical chiefs. " Tney have," you will be told, '* no other strategy. 
Their one and ooly plan is to create a tempest in a tea-cup, a wash- 
ing-basin, or a sponge-balh, and then to make a show of quelling 
it." To adopt a metaplior from the City, they are perpt tually ' bear- 
ing ' slock in order that they may ' bull ' it. How long the English 
people will tolerate tliese grotesque and hazardous methods, who 
shall say? Hut is it not clear that, if they are persevered in, there 
must ultimately be little in England eitner to bull or to bear, and 
that it will be useless for Radicals to move the elements, to create 
the storm, because there will no longer exist the material of salvage 
to rescue?" 

On the other hand, what are the Conservatives? What are their 
aims and their policy? what their future? Their chief idea just now 
would seem to be to abuse their opponents for lemainiug in office, 
and to shrink from taking their place. In no single instance since 
the death of Beaconsfield have they shown the courage of their con- 
victions. Their more active spit its are alwa^^s seeking how they can 
outbid their opponents, how trump the socialistic card which the 
Radical plays. Lord Salisbury vies with Mr. Gladstone in pander- 
ing to Demos — the sole King in England. 1 see no sign of their 
resorting to any new expedient. There is no one among Ihein who 
shows himself capable of grasping the situation, supplying by his 
own action and initiative what it needs. Disraeli was a man of com- 
mandmg genius, who by an accident found himself at the head of 
the Conservative party. But ne was not a Conservative. He suc- 
ceeded because he was the cleverest man the Conservatives could 
find. He achieved a brilliant personal tiiumph, and he reflected its 
luster upon his political followers. Naturally, therefore, when he 
departed the whole fabric was dissolved. Men of his giftr. will al- 
ways be rare. The Conservatives, if they are to do anything, must 
not wait till Disraeli's genius reappears. jMay not, after all, medi- 
ocrity suit them better than genius? — mediocrity of a high stamp, 
but mediocrity all the same. For insta' ce, have they ever had a 
leader who aid them better service, till he was overthrown, than the 
great Sir Robert Peel? He was a man of business pre-eminently. 
He liad made the financial system of the country his study. The 
City trusted him. If the Conservatives are wise, they will see 



5S &OCiETt IN LOKDOIT. 

whether they can not discover or develop another man of business 
upon the same lines as Sir Robert Peel. But is there a chance ot this? 
It is in the knowledge and aptitude of business that the Conserva- 
tives are wanting. Many of them are ludicrously ignorant ot 
aftairs— more are the victims of fallacies and delusions. The nation 
of shop-keepers knows tliis loo well. In its despair it trusts ilbelf 
to the Liberals, not because it likes them or admires them, but be- 
cause, ot two evils, it prefers the evil which, rightly or wrongly, it 
consideis the less. 

Tiiere is one danger to themselves which the Radical politicians 
ot England ought to leckon with. The English idol is respectabil- 
ity, and property is only a mode of lespectability. In England no 
one is accounted respectable who has not got a balance at his bank- 
er's. When, thereiore, the Radicals threaten, it they do threaten, 
property, they are making war upon the image which the true-born 
Briton bows down to and woi ships. They therefore run the risk of 
being branded with the stigma of disrepute, in France it is ridicule 
which kills; in England it is tlie reproach ot being disreputable. 
Gambetta tried to extinguit^h ('lenienceau by calling him a disrepu- 
table politician. He never did hiar a greater service; but if Ixam- 
betla and Clemenceau had Lioth been Englishmen, and the same 
language had been employed, very difterent cousequences might 
have ensued. 



CHAPTER XL 

LTTTEKATEURS IN SOCIETY — JOURNALISM. 

Lord Tennyson— Mr. Browning— Mr. Matthew Arnold— Mr. Leclcy— Mr. Froude 
—Mr. Laurence Oliphant^Mr. Kinglake— Lord Hoiigliton— Mrs. Singleton- 
Mr. Justin McCarthj^— Mr. Courtnej^- Mr. John Morley— Mr. Heiuy Labou- 
chere— Sir Algernon Borth wick— The Borthwicks— 1 he Editors of the Times, 
the Standard, the Daih/ I'elegrajih, the Daih/ Neivs, the St. Jameses Gazette 
—Mr. Henry Reeve— Dr. William Smith— Mr. Ednmnd Yates— Mr. F. C. 
Biirnand— Mr. Hutton— Mr. Townsend— Mr. Pollock— Mr. Knowles— Mr. 
Escott. • 

There is, as 1 shall have now made clear, no society in London 
which can be called political rather than legal, diplomatic, or sport- 
ing. For the i)olitical elements, even in the society in which they 
preponderate, coalesce with others and are molded into a tolerably 
homogeneous whole. Is there any society which can be styled pai' 
excellence Viler m-y, ar\\si\c, oi theatrical? Yes, and no. Society of 
the best kind does not admitof tlie application to itof these epithets. 
Writers, painters, and, players are occasionally seen by ones, twos, 
and threes in society; but they do not give it its tone. On the con- 
trary, they derive their tone liom it. I'hey have their clubs and 
coteries, theii bachelor dinner parties, and their other entertainments, 
which may be called liier.iry, theatrical, musical, artistic, as the case 
may be, and which are graced by London society's recognized rep- 
resentatives, perhaps bv Royalty iiself. Then there arec<rtain in- 
ferior social circles where the gentleiiien of the play, the brush, or 
the buskin, instead ot being, as in the fine Pvorld, nonentities, are 
personages ot the highest consideration. 

Let nie explain my meaning by a few instances. Lord Tennyson 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 99 

is very seldom seen in any section of London society. It is rare for 
liiui to come up to London. When he does so, he takes a house in 
the Belgraviun quarter, dines with, or liimself enttitains, men of 
such eminence as ihePiime Ministei and the Ijord Chancellor, or, if 
Ihe weather chances to be fine and he is in an exceptionally ^^ood 
humor, honors the atteruoou leceplinns ol not(uiety-liuulin,i; hosts 
or hostesses with his presence. Mr. Browning, the poet of iucom- 
preliensibie manneripiii, tlie taste tor whose wriiin^ in En<;land is 
probably to be explained in the same way as the populaiily of 
double aciostics, is an alto.2;ether different person, lie lives for so 
ciely :ind in society. It he can not l>e at the houses of the ^reat, lie 
is satisfied to be seen at the eslablishments of the small. J>ut he 
must be in evidence. He is an agreeable man, full of anecdote ac- 
commodated to his audience, profound or superticial, li^^ht or fieri- 
ous, literal}', scientific, poetic, historical, or what you will. He is 
more than a septuagenarian; yet he enjoys the mild distractions of 
the most commonplace drawina-iooms with the unso[>histicated 
freshness of early j'outh. He has the vanity, as characteristic as 
irritability itself, of the race of bards. His venerable fascinations 
arc, as he piqiies himself on believinj;, irresistible l)y ladies of all 
ages and all degrees. He does not trumpet forth his conquests to 
miscellaneous assemblaires, but he is fond of telling the favored fair 
ot his acliievements among thcii number. Mi. Browning is a pro- 
fessional diner-out, and has not yet satiated his appetite for evening 
parties. It peers and peeresses, plutoci-ats of high degree, and 
olhers well placed in the London world, do not happen to iuv te 
him, he coudefecends to shine in the firmaments ot society's minor 
queens. 

The region in which he thus find himself is, to the social student, 
the most curious imaginable. Poets, painters and players, public- 
ists, critics and essayists abound. The women are mostly the wives 
of professional men, not a tew of them liou-hunteis by calling, and 
assiiluous in their attention to those whom they style notabilities. 
They, as well as their husbands and their families, not only admire, 
1 doubt not, sincerely, genius for genius' sake, but see in its repre- 
sentatives connecting liidis between their own bourgeois orbit and the 
ppliere of what is called society. The poet and the artist, the actor 
or actress, sometimes tlie humble joinnalist himself, are looked upon 
less ns messeuirers from the region of intellect— interpreters of divine 
and noble thoughts to ordinary men and women -tlian as hei-alds 
from the smart and fashionable world ot which it is their privilege 
to liave more tlian a glimpse, and in some of the mysteries of which 
they are supposed to be initiated. 

Men like Mr. Browning, who are quite as much courtiers, even 
parasites, by profession, as they are poets or men of letters by 
achieveiuent, touch wUh one hand tlie social circles of lire middle 
class, and with the other the vci-y aik of the fashionable covenant 
itself. From that depository of snol^bei-y there is transmitted a 
magnetic current which runs through the body ot the bard, and 
thrills with its agitalmg impulses the system ot his humble wor- 
shipers. 

Mr. Matthew Arnold is another orb of literary light in the social 
empyrean. He is less conspicuously or aggressively the man of the 



100 SOCIETY IN LONDON". 

world, pure and simple, than Mr. Browning. He has more of ob- 
vious refinement and breeding, and betrays scarcely any tendency 
to parade his familiarity with London society. On the other hand, 
he abounds in affectaiions, conceits, and vanity. But, paradox as 
It may seem, the3e rather heighten than detract from the charm of 
the man. He lets you know that he is o.m the best terms conceivable 
with himself, but be does it in a manner so bland, polished, and 
gentle, that you mentally decide that he would be difficult to please 
if he were not so. How. one asks instinctively, could he help liking 
such an agreeaole self? Mr. Matthew Ainold is in every sense of the 
word a highly bred, high-spirited gentleman. 

Over these qualities lie casts the luster of a well-stored and disci- 
plined intellect. He is an acute and powerful critic as well as a 
charming poet. He has done more to place his countrymen en rap- 
port with the best of french literature than any other intellectual 
teacher of his day. He is a witty and amiable talker, seldom flip- 
pant, always entertaining, sometimes serious, never a pedant, occa- 
sionally satirical, but rarely spiteful. He is adored by his family, 
and comes under the category of spoiled fathers. Young ladies in 
general worship him. He is fond of comfort, luxury, and ease, as 
well as content, when necessity demauds, with plain living and hitrh 
thinking. The houses which he chiefly loves to frequent are those 
whose interior is so calculated to please the sense of eye, taste, and 
smell as Mr. and Mrs. Cyril Flower, Lord and Lady Rosebery, and 
other opulent or titled hosts. Curiously enough, beseems to be bet- 
ter Known to-day as a writer of prose than of poetry. Fifty years 
hence it will be forgotten that he ever wrote prose at all. Much of 
his verse has the stamp of immortality. His essays on literature or 
religion are written for the day, and are merely pieces of journalistic 
causerie. 

Mr. Lecky is another embassador from the community of letters 
well received by London Society. Tall, with a bland meek counte- 
nance, a voice suggestive of spun silk, a manner expressive now of 
dogmatic positiveness and now significant of dreamy abstraction, he 
is a pleasant and improving, rather than an enlivening companion. 
His wife is Dutch, a lady of more esprit than is usually possessed 
by her nation or by the wives of literary men generally. 

Tliere are two other considerable English historians who are to be 
seen frequently, in the English capital, outside their libraries or 
studies— Frouae and Kinglake. The former is the first of living 
writers of English prose. As years have gone by they have brought 
with them no deterioration of quality in his style. With the excep- 
tion possibly of Cardinal Newman, he is the only wielder of the 
English tongue who can play upon it with the same felicity and 
evoke from it the same subtle modulations of tone ns the notes of a 
musical instrument yield when maniptilated by a performer of the 
highest order. Mr. Froude's social manner is a little too gentle and 
a little too feline. The eyes are somewhat too visibly birsy in their 
operations. They too evidently take in everything that is passing. 
There is, too, a sternness of expression, almost a cruelty, in the 
neighborhood of the lips which causes one to suspect that Mr. 
Froude's elaborate gentleness and studied suavity are the veil of w 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 101 

implacable resentment when it is once excited, and a contempt for, 
ana disbeliet in, human nature at large. 

Mr. Kinglnke's appearance is venerable and chivalrous. He has 
seen the world and every gort of sociely, both in London and in 
Europe. He has lived ainon<r polilicians, great writers, and wits. 
He belongs raliier to the generation ot Palmerston, Delane, 
Thackeray, Hay ward, and Bernal Osborne, than to that of to-day. 
He opened up tiie East halt a century ago to English travelers. The 
volume in which he recorded his impressions ot it marked an epoch 
in English literature. He has known Paris — the Paris ot thirty 
years ago — as well as London, and one ot his chief grounds of 
quariel with Napoleon lU. was purely personal. With the excep- 
tion ot his deafness, he is in possession ot all his faculties. His 
memory is as remarkable as his liumor. It is the memory not ot a 
statistician, but ot a philosophic historian. He can trust to his gen- 
eralizations from scattered experiences as implicitly as if they were 
all docketed in commeicial form. 

Mr. Laurence Oliphant can scarcely be reckoned now among the 
literati of London. But he moves in a mysterious way, comes and 
goes without warning, and may be on the banks ot the Thames 
before the season is over. Although absent, he is not forgotten. 
His fame lives on the lips ot countless acquaintances, who keep up 
the tradition ot his friendship. He scintilhites pretty constantly in 
maKaziue articles, and recently published, in a spirit ot ponderous 
whim, a totally unreadable and incomprehensible volume. Nature 
intended Mr. Oliphant for a putjlicisl, a social satirist, an author ot 
clever sketches and stories of the w^orld or otjeux d' esprit. A curi- 
ous twist in his temperament and a yearning after notoriety made 
him a sort of Pall Mall Messiah; the evangelist of a gospel, modishly 
mystical, the hierophunt in drawing-rooms and boudoirs of a religion 
the primary object of whose worship was Mr. Oliphant himself. 

Few Englishmen are so widely known. His fame is spread 
through the United States of America. He has lived in Paris and 
in most otlier European capitals. He began life as a diplomatist, 
and he discovered thefauious French correspondent of the " Times," 
M. Blowitz. He has made several forms of superstition fashionable, 
and 1 doubt whether the idea of esoteric Buddhism would have oc- 
curred to any ot its latter-day prophets but tor his example, he 
unites in himself, if 1 may say so without disrespect, the practical 
acuteness ot the Yankee and the visionary dreaminess of the 
Oriental. He is always hovering between Nirvana and New York. 
On the other side ot the Atlantic he has become infected with the 
contagion of a Barnum. His Asiatic and European experiences 
have caused him to enage in the attempt to mingle Baruumism 
with Occultism. Decidedly a droll creature this— one of whom it 
is difficult to say whether, had his nature been traversed by a less 
pronounced vein of eccentricity, he would have been more famous 
or more useful, 

Mr. Laurence Oliphant is the pattern on which several London 
literate ars stem to have modeU'd themselves. Some of them have 
burlesqued his oddities; others have been satished to reproduce the 
blend of society and authorship iiujiersonated in him. To tliis lat- 
ter order belong Mr. Hamilton Aide, a drawing-room wiiler, tend 



102 SOCIETY IN LOIS^DON. 

of enlerlaining his friends and being entertained by them; and Mr. 
Augustus Hare, wlio writes, as in conversation he tells stories, lor 
a select public, chiefly composed ot dowagers and spinsters of mature 
years. Had this gentleman been born in a different sphere, he 
might have emulated the great Cook himself — without whose aid it 
is said the English Government could not have planned their Nile 
expedition— in the chosen path ot his genius. For Mr. Hare is an 
adept at personally conducting tourist parties composed of we 1-to- 
do matrons ot quality on the Continent, or ot showing them the 
sights ot Old Loudon. 

1 have often heard it said that the reading public in England is 
almost exclusively composed ot women, and certainly popularity 
with ladies is indispensable to the success of young authors. Be- 
fore Mr. Oscar Wilde founded the worship of the sunflower, he 
made, 1 am j^Mven to understand, a kind ot reputation by endeavor- 
ing, 1 know not wilh what success, to teach Mrs. Langtry Greek. 
This 13 a very clever and loog-headed young man indeed. He al- 
wnys reminds me of Brutus, who, for pui poses of his own and with 
triumphant resulls, feigned idiocy. Mr. Oscar Wilde saw that if 
anything was lo be done with a capital of moderate talents, it was 
necessary lo cieate a sensation. Having secured, wilh the help of 
a few populnr or well-known ladies, an audience, lie proceeded lo 
pose as the high priest of ^sthetieism. Men laughed at him; but 
it was a sort of folly that paid. Mr. Wilde presented Ihe appear- 
ance of a trd)ble, iiid calculated his arrang(*ments to nicety. If he 
was laughed at he could aflord to laugh "at others, and kept his 
tongue in liis cheek. He has had imitators, whose names 1 can not 
remember, but he has never been eclipsed in the peculiar metier of 
his ciioice. 

As w^omen seem in London to have the power of creating literary 
success, so they are sometimes anioilious of lhatsucce>^s themsslves. 
Indeed, amongst the ladies ot particular coteries it is nearly the ex- 
ception 10 encounter one who does not write. The truth, 1 suppose, 
is. that Ihe circulating libraries must be supplied, and it does not 
piobably much matter with what, home ot these dames of Die pen 
go a good deal into society. Mr^. Singleton, best known by her 
nam de plume of "Violet Pane," is the best representative of a 
numerous triDe. She has uncommon powers of satirical description 
and dialogue. She is a poet, and she has in high perfection the con- 
versational art, possessed by som^e fashionable and well-bred women, 
of uttering the most audacious or pungent sentiments in a voice of 
resigned melancholy, reprovins: naivete, or childish simplicity. 

I now come to an entirely different department of literature, if lit- 
erature it can be called, JournMlism. The journalist, it is customary 
to say, is powerful in England, and 1 believe that the multitude of 
those who are desirous otaddmir jiHirnalism to their regular occu- 
pations is, as the sands of the sea-shore, innumerable. But men who 
mold public opinion by tlieir writing have seldom the opportunity 
or the inclination to m^x wilh scciely Certain it is that one only 
catches fleeting g'impses ot them, liut does journalism in England 
mold pid)lic opinion, or what are the relations in which it stands to 
it? If the articles one reads in ihe newspapers were d fair reflection 
of the national mind upon any given subject, and at any particular 



SOniETY IK LONDON. 103 

crisis, then it would follow ihat whenever (he press is excited the 
country must be excited too. But is that the case? Nothing of the 
kind. The London newspapers, in the morninii; and the evening, 
lash themselves into u fury over the snoricomings of English Min- 
isters in every quarter ot the globe. Thousands and scores of thou- 
sands of Engli->hmen ihrou^i^hout the country read tliose diatribes 
and invectivL'b. for the most part admirably written, with warm ap- 
proval. 

But noihing comes of them. The public no more thinks of acting 
in accordance with their precepts than it does ot taking as its rule 
of lite tlie high flown seniinients in the drama whicii it has just been 
applaudii)g. Journalism stimulates the people only in theory. The 
leading articles, though the assertion may seem a contradiction in 
terms, are absolutely inefrective because they are so effective. The 
average Briton, after having read one ot them, acts precisely as the 
pious church-goer does who lias listened toa sermon which has kindled 
witliin his bosom a glow ot enu)iion. Cliurch-goer and newspaper- 
reader alike do their duty. Sermon and article equally discharge 
the functions of a safety-valve. The press interprets wliat it de- 
clares to be the deliberate conviction of the nation, and the nation, 
jvith the comment " Quite fo!" L'oes its way. 

It has been said that one ot the consequences of the French Revo- 
lution was to supersede tiie priesthood of the Church by the priest- 
hood of the pen. Exactly; and just as the tendency of ecclesiastical 
sacerdotalism was to relieve individuals of any necessity for being 
religious themselves, so the tendency of journiiislic sacerdotalism is 
to relieve them of any necessity of political exertion, or of bringing 
popular pressure to bear tipou those in power. The average Briton 
consuhs his newspaper with the sameawe-strirken contidence as the 
pious Roman used to consult the entrails. But in the forn-er case, un- 
like the latter, the business l)egins and ends \vilh consultation. If the 
English journalist is to do anything, it must be l)ecause he can rouse 
his readers to act. But to tlie latter it appears that their duty 
terminates with the perusal of the article. The journalist, therefore, 
does not spur the multitude. He rather, albeit unconsciously and 
with the best intent, administers to them an anodyne or a soporific. 

Journalism, from (he point ot view from which 1 shall look at it 
here, is interesting as alTording a social link between politics and 
literature. In the present Hou><e of Commons there are exceedingly 
few men, as it is natural for Fienchmen to estimate them, who have 
achieved anything like ennnence as publicists. Tliere are several 
newspaper proprietors, and, especial'y amongst the Irish, a host of 
journalistic dabblers. Mr. Justin McCarthy, a novelist as well as a 
writer of articles, is the one Hibernian senator of any literary im- 
portance, and he has d>)ne himself harm bv taking to a Parliament- 
ary career. He ha", that is to say, ceated for himself a false posi- 
t'on. He has transformed himself from an English litterateur into 
an Irish politician. Amongst English ^linistera the only ex-jour- 
nalist is Sir William Harci'urt, ot whom I have already had occasion 
to speak; though Mr. Courtney, till lately a Treasury official, was 
another. 

The House of Commons to-day contains but a single publicist and 
auihor of the first distiuclion, Mr. John Morley. Mr. Murley con- 



i04 SOCIETY Iiq- LOKDOH. 

tinues to combine the profession of politics with that of literature, 
and, marvelous to say, neither sufters by the union. He is, how- 
ever, the exception which proves the rule. Much of his literary 
career was a political apprenticeship. Many ot his best books are 
political studies. Above all, he is a Radical by conviction. Unlike 
many, or most, effective writers for the press, he has a natural gift 
foi oratory and debate. So far as 1 have been able to judge, ], 
should say the eflect of his literary training upon him had been, not. 
as is usually the case, to make bis speeches academic, but to imbue 
him with a holy hatred of commonplace. Though good houses ara 
open to him, he goes spaiingly into society; thonsih he has received 
enough homage and flattery to spoil him, he assumes none of the 
airs of the oracle. He is a gentleman-like man ot the world, easy 
and unaffected, never straining artifically after conversational effects, 
with just enough bitterness to give flavor to his comments, and with 
a keen sense of humor and fun. 

Mr. Heniy Labouchere is in every respect, save that he too is a 
professed Kadical, a contrast to Mr. Morley. He has never given 
himeelf to serious literary work, but he is an admirable writer of 
short, sententious, pithy paragraphs, spiced wiih not offensive per- 
sonality, ana sometimes quite delightful in their daring. The truth 
is, he has taken up publicism, as he has taken up— and never, per- 
haps, when his real purpose is considered, quite unsuccessfully — 
many other things. Long years, 1 am prepared to believe, were re- 
quired before he could divest himself ot that native modesty which 
shrinks instinctively from publicity, and recoils in pusitive horror 
from the idea ot vulirar fame. But at last he overcame this ingenu- 
ous weakness, and, if he will forgive me for saying so, 1 am per- 
suaded that notoriety is now to him as the breath of his nostrils. 

Supremely indifferent to the praise or blame of his fellow-creat- 
ures, he can not live without occupation, and the one occupation 
he cares for is that which, while it contributes to the mOral improve- 
ment of the human race, does not in too marked a manner avert 
their glance from himself. Thus, he started some years ago a 
weekly newspaper, as he had before run a theater, anddistingufshert 
himself as a besieged resident in Paris. As a politician it is natural 
to him never quite to be satisfied with the advance made by the 
leaders of his party along the path he indicates. It he supports a 
ministry he is, by a law of his being, in opposition to it as well. 
He is not so much a follower of Mr. Gladstone or Mr. Chamberlain, 
a Liberal or a Kadical— tie is Henry Labouchere. 

Few men of the day have made their mark so plainly in so many 
careers. Mere f ussiness would not have enabled him to do this. 
His mind is strong as well as acute. He has been pitted against some 
of the hardest heads in the city of London, and has proved himself 
their equal. He is a prodigious worker, though methodically un- 
methodical. His faculties are always on the alert. His mind, and, 
so far as is necessary for the processes of his mind, his body, is as 
severely in training as a prize-fighter's. He takes no exercise. He 
smokes cigarettes incessantly, but he never drinks, and he seldom 
eats. He is a pure Rechabite— not on principle, but from prefer- 
ence. In London society he is seldom seen. He has a capital estab- 
lishment in town, and, near town, another on the banks of the 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 105 

Thames. He is a great authority on all matters theatrical. He is 
now quite domestioutecl. Hospitable, and never happier than when 
he is entertainiiii^ parties, big or small, of the complexion which 
London society designates as Bohemian, lie is certainly a tavorile. 
Even those who most disagree with, and disapprove of, the political 
doctrines which he affects, speak ot him almost affectionately a3 
"Labby." 

His name is greeted as a household word, and is sure lo raise an 
appreciative laugh on any stage or platform on which it is mentioned. 
He is, perhaps, the one man in England who has an unlimited power 
of startling society without shocking it. This is partly because he 
is never supposed to be quite in earnest, never taken quite literally 
or au serieux; partly, too, because there are certain laws ot taste 
which he seldom violates; partly, and perhaps principally, because 
he is credited with many ot those attributes w-hich Enghshmen ad- 
mire with blind loyalty. He has, that is to say, the cachet ot what 
can only be described as " swelldom." He was born to social posi- 
tion and to fortune; was the nephew of a highly respectable and 
pious uncle, who ultimately became a peer, and who left him a fort- 
une, or the nucleus ot a fortune. His educational training, Eton, 
Cambridge, and diplomacy, were a?l eminently aristocratic. Lon- 
don society, therefore, if it sees in him a hrehis egciree, sees in him 
also a sheep between whom and the fold there yet exists a certain 
connection. Then he has been favorably regarded by royalty. He 
has, in a word, a certain breeding, whcii, co-operating with a 
shrewd, cool judgment, and a wide know^ledge of the world, pre- 
vents him from being offensive. He may regard life and all its con- 
cerns, political or social, as a game, but he knows the laws of the 
game, and these laws he never violates. Some persons may wonder 
how and why ho is tolerated; this is the explanation, a sufficient 
one. 

To London society the daily journal is a reality, but the journalist 
scarcely a name; rather a nonentity. It is only the infusion of tne 
commeicial and the political, thebusiness-lilteand the statesman-like 
elements into tne social, tvhich occasionally acquaints London 
society with the identity and patronymic of the London editor. 
Since the daj^s of Delane, there has been no conductor-in-chief of 
any London newspaper who has figured as a personage in society. 
Sir Algernon Bortliwick, now the doyen ot the London press, is in- 
deed an exception. But then his social position is independent of 
the happy accident which makes him proprietor and conductor-in- 
chiet — the acting editor being a w^orthy and genial justice of the 
peace, Mr. Hardman— of the '' Morning Post."' It is as a servant of 
society flrst and a pillar of the press afterward that, assisted by his 
gifted and popular wife, he has secured for his house the 'prestige of 
a brilliant social center. Every one who is any one goes to " the 
Borthwicljs." and every one is proud or going there. There are no 
hosts who have achieved a success more indisputable—none who are 
kindlier and worthier. But one might exhaust the vocabulary of 
praise and compliment over these charming people. Society in 
London would not be society without them. The chief of the 
editorial staff of the " Times " is Mr Buckle, a gentleman in the 
bloom of early manhood, an Oxford scholar, of singularly prepos- 



106 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

sessing manner and appearance, quiet, self possessed, with an aii ot 
tranquil determination and unaggressive s<. It-assurance about liim, 
the irreproachable embodiment ot a disci eet caution. Thr opinions 
of the "Times" are ollen criticised, and its policy condemned. 
This 1 reg.rd as a tribute to its power. One may be suie that the 
articles published in a daily broadsheet would not excite such 
animated ditt'erences ot estimate unless thtir intrinsic importance 
was telt on every side. And is it not prob;ible that the men who aie 
responsible for the conduct ot the "Times," the sugacious, it un- 
sympathetic and frigid, Mr. AValler. whose experience is great and 
whose ins ght inlo English feelin£r is not contemplitile, as well as 
those who are associated with him in the management oi Ihe journal, 
may know their own business quite as well as those who cavil at 
them? 

The editor of the " Times " occupies, iind always will occupy, a 
pusiiion among English journalists entirely unique. The institu- 
ti(m he controls is not only a great English newspaper. In the opin- 
ion of foreigners, and in tlie opinion of many Englishmen tuo. it is 
the greatest of newspapers; perhaps the only great newspaper in the 
United Kingdom. Alter the Sovereign and the Premier comes the 
Lord Mayor— so, at least many of my compatriots think — after tlie 
Lord Mayor comes the " Times," and notliiug will ever eradicate 
from the Continental mind, whether in the case ol politicians or ot 
the masses, the belief that the views expressed by the ** Times " are 
inspired by the Government of the day. This is a delusion of course, 
but it is one of those delusions which diehard, which are almost im- 
mortal. 

The editor of the " Standard " is Mr. Mudford. He does not 
make his presence in London society too cheap. He is a busy man, 
and be has, quite an unusual thing tor the British editor, literary 
tastes. He understands his ciatt better than most of his contem- 
poraries, and has the power (exceedingly rare among English jour- 
nalists, who are not, for the most part, men of the world, and who 
trj' to acquire an importance which, as a matter of fact, they never 
win, by professing extravagant loyalty to a party which ignores 
them) of looking at any political conjuncture with judicial impar- 
tiality. The danger is lest the ablest ot editors, be he Mr. Mudford 
or any other, for the very reason that he does from time to time so 
successfully identify himself with public opinion, should, when a 
critical omererency arises, mistake eflect for cause, and assume that 
what he says is, tor the mere reason that he says it. the interpreta- 
lion ot public opinion. So well has he played the part of exponent 
that at last lie imagines tiiere can be nothing to be expounded apart 
Irom his own ideas. A little more imaginaimn, and perhaps a dash 
more cynicism, would helo him to avoid this error. Belore one 
can be apolitical prophet one must succeed in divesting one's self not 
only of all partisanship, but, a far more difficult matter, of all con- 
ceit; the only quality to be trusted to is that which is puiely intel- 
lectual, and which, in pronouncinir on a given situation, is pdfectly 
unbiassed, unels»led by the memory of its past successes. Mr. Mud- 
ford's social manner at once impresses you in his favor. No one 
could pronounce him anything but a strong man. When he talljs 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. l07 

hft talks wisely, and if tliere is anything worth hearinjj he listens 
well, 

Amone; other joumnlists known in London society aa journalists 
are Mr. Lawson of tlie " Daily Telciir.iph." Mr. Hill and Mr. Rob- 
ins«)n of ihe "Daily News," ISIr. Grettjwood of the "St. James' 
Gazette." and vaiious gentlemen to whom 1 linve, at different times, 
liad the honor of beiuu' i»reseuted as responsible lor the " Pall Mall 
Gazelle." Plump, well-kept, exuberant, prospeious, ever-pmiling, 
liumoroup, and cheerful. Mr. Lawson is somelhing more than one 
of Ihe proprietors and editors nf the " Daily Telegraph." He is an 
exceedmglv wealthy man, partly the result of business success, and 
partly of tlie well-directed munificence of opuleut lelaiives. He 
entertains lavishly at his town house and his country-iiouse, is the 
lather of a son about to become a u\ember of Pailiament, and an- 
other in the Guards. As 1 have elsewhere intimated, his newspaper 
is one of liie authors of Mr. Gladstone's political fame; but he is 
too shrewd and sagacious to indulge his vanity by dwelling on this 
circumstance; and thougli I should think ihat few steps of impor- 
tance were taken in the office of his n< wspaper without his cog- 
nizance, or apprnv^al, or initiative, the role of which he is most fond 
is that of a country squire, compelled by Ihe pressiire of political 
business and patriotic emotions not unfrecjuently to visit London. 

Mr, Hill is laudably assiduous in his attendance at the social 
functions of the leaders of the party to which ids paper, the " Daily 
!Nev\s," is attached. He is a man with a quiet, dry manner, who 
improves on acquaintance, and who has a powei, unparalleled 
among his journalistic colleagues, of saying trenchant and biting 
tilings in a quiet, even an amiable way. He generally sti ikes the 
stranger as too muc*) of the philosopher and too little of the politi- 
cian. Pt-rliaps nature meant him rjiilier for tlie scholar's library 
and wriliug-table than for the newspaper ofRoe. Mr. Greenwood, 
on the other hand, with much littrary knowl dge and training; as 
competent a judge, I should say, as exists in London of literary 
finish and efficiency; himself a writer of singular wrv^ and ineisive- 
ness. bus, with evperieDce, contracted many of the associations, and 
imbibed many of thu sentiments -of a statesman. He is repuied to 
be violent, even venomous, in his liteiary onblaughts on politicians 
and their policies. But really in jruimalism one mu^t study effect, 
and if JMr, Greenwood writes at a white heat of indignation, or 
prompts others to do so, it does not follow that he himself can 
form no estimate of men and of affairs unprejudiced and cool to 
freezing-point. 

There are other points of social convergence briefly to be illus- 
trated between periodical literature and politics. Mr, Henry 
Peeve, the editor of ihe "Edinburgh Review," when he is not 
suffering from gout, or at his country estate, is «»fien to be met with 
in the dining-rooms and drawing-rooms of the h<»sts and hostesses 
of Loudon society. He may be likened to a highly modernized 
edition of Wr. Johnson. Tall, portly, quite elderly and almost dig- 
nified, he utters alike paradoxes and platitudes with a volume and 
depth of voice implying that there is no appeal a«rainst them. Many 
years have elapsed since he was obliging enough to tai^e French 
literature and politics, in a word, everything to do with France, 



108 Society ik LoKDOit* 

Under his protection. He a^ts, oi* at one time be acted, as a specie^ 
of English Consul-General tor French literature, and there is per- 
haps ho well-known translatioii ot a French work of importance so 
unsatisfactory as Mr. Reeve's version of De Tocqueville'a ** Democ- 
racy in America." Jt is a tradition with him to be on pjood terms 
with the successive occupants of the French Embass}^ in London. 
Society, politics, history, pliilosophy, and letters, on every branch of 
thesft Mr. Reeve claims to spenk with oracular authority. Then, 
too, he affects to act as the interpreter of the esoteric ideas of Whig- 
gism, that droll political composite of assumption and timidity. 

The editor ot the '* Quart^rlv Review," Dr. Wilh'am Smith, is, 
notwithstanding? his years and his responsibility, a cheery and genial 
gentleman. He pretends to be nothing more than he is, a keen, ex- 
perienced impresario, with enough of varied erudition and insight 
into popular feeling to be a trustworthy judge upon any ordinary 
topic without being infallible. He lacks the slightly pretentious 
pomposity ot Mr, Reeve, it he magnifies his apostleship it is within 
narrower limits and in a less aggressive way. He does not affect 
to be so deeply behiud the scenes as the editor of the " Edinburgh 
Review," but he is, for all that, well informed, thoroughly pleasant 
and instructive to talk with. 

Periodical literature is also represented in London society by the 
conductors of one or two miscellanies who occupy a position mid- 
way between that of the editor of a daily paper and of a quarterly 
review. Mr. Knowles, the editor of the " Nineteenth Century," 
has the same craze for social omniscience which 1 have repeatedly 
observed among the private secretaries of Ministers or the more as- 
piring ot Foreign Office clerks. The world is his oyster; society 
his happy hunting-ground, useful and attractive to hira mainly as 
offering him recruits for a magazine in which the order of social 
precedence is rigidly observed. Dukes and marquises first, then 
peers ot interior degree, then bishops and philosophers, the pro- 
cession being wound up by any poor devils who have contrived to 
puff themselves into momentary notoriety. If you are worth know- 
ing from Mr. Knowles' point ol view it must ie either because you 
can help him with his magazine, or because you know some person 
else who may be useful toi that purpose. He is, as it is his busi- 
ness to be, an acute, calculatins little man, always, as a look at 
him is enough to tell you, engaged in mentally reckoning as to 
whether A. or B. or C. can forward his enterprise, and, it so, up to 
what point. To Mr. Knowles, who displays, if it is permissible to 
employ a vernacular expression, all his wares in his shop window, 
there could be no greater contrast than the editor of the "Fort- 
nightly Review," Mr. Escott, who, though I suppose he must give 
some atteruion to his professional pursuits, and has the credit of 
understanding them, never alludes to them in conversation, and 
when talking is not easily enticed into the expression ot an opinon 
about them oi about any other matter. This may be wise, but hfe 
is short, and on the occasions on which 1 have met him it has not 
seemed to me to be v^orlh while to induce him to bieak his not too 
conciliatory or courteous reserve. 

Lord Houghton is one of the most distinguished, and gradually 
disappearing, links which exist between society and literature. His 



SOCiEtY tN LONDON. 109 

intellectual faculties are undimmed. Age has now overtaken him, 
but the glory ot his younger brilliancv and his enjoyment ot life 
anil its good things lins not^nbalcd. >Vilh the exception of a slitrht 
deafness, he is a victim lo no intinrity peculiarly incidental to his 
years. He is still indefatigable as an afur-dinner speaker, and can 
talk, whether in public or in private, in an air halt ronuinlic, half 
satitical, tbe secret of whose charm none of his juniors seems lo 
have discovered. He has been the acq\iaintance or the intinuite 
friend ot almost every man of distinction in politics, literature, 
diplomacy, or science, who has lived during tlie last half century. 
He lias, moreover, giveu the world much that ii prizes, and will 
preserve in prose and poetry. If he is sometimes the theme of 
merriment to his friends, his accomplishments can never be anv- 
thiug but the subject of admiration. He has Been the world in 
many aspects far outside the iin.its of his own country, has popular- 
izt;d and embellished travel, and has delighted more than one gen- 
eration of wits in continental capitals with the whimsicalities of his 
wit and his paradoxical conceits. 

As for the novelists of London, their name is legion, but to Lon- 
don society they are names only. Mr. Wilkie Collins leads the life 
of a recluse. Other masters of fiction avoid the capital as much as 
possible; and as for the lady novelists, they either work too liard to 
liave any time to spend upon society, or they limit their appearanca 
in it to visits paid in fashionable crmntry-houses. 

One editor of a weekly paper has been already presented to the 
reader in the person ol jMr. Labouchere. Mr. Edmund Yates, 
though not, like Mr. Labouchere, a Member of Parliament, is as 
little unknown as he is to London society. Vivacious as a taliver, 
well equipped as a raconteur, he has the twin gift of a tenacious 
memory and a quick eye. He is one of the comparatively few men 
ot letters in London whose memory carries them back to the period 
when society appreciated literary sparkle in its conversation more 
than it does to-day. Full of vitality and vit'or, he makes his pres- 
ence felt wlierever he is. His most characteristic gifts, his pleasantry, 
his antithesis, his neatness of expression, are French rather than 
English. 

The fortunes ot " Punch," the London " Charivari," are directed 
by Mr. Burnanfl, a gentleman who, though so immersed in his oc- 
cupations that he has little time to spare lor society, is welcomed in 
many sections of it when he can be induced to lay his professional 
labors aside. His appearance, with his bushy eyebrows, his hair 
brushed well back from his forehead, and, above all, the black 
cravat which lie affects in evening dress, is Gallic rather than 
British. He is a farceur of the best type, gifted, like Mr. Yates, 
with a liberal allowance of histrionic power, and never more amused 
than when he is amusinsr. But he has higher qualities. That he 
is possessed ot no ordinary strength of judt'^aient as well as fertility 
of resource is shown by the skill and success with which he con- 
ducts what is one of the most remarkable papers in the world. In 
England " Punch " has provoked many imitations; none of them 
have touched or even seriously threatened its a^^cendency. The se- 
cret ot humorously interpreting with pen and pencil the superficial or 
the deeper sentiments of the hour rests with it and with it alone. 



110 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

- Betweon the editors of the " Saturday Review " and the ** Spec* 
tator " there is, at any rate as regards personal appearance, a marked 
dissimilarity. Mr. Walter Pollock. Ibe conductor ot the former 
journal, the gifted member of a gifted family, a model of grace 
and breediiiir, and the best fencer in England, is tall, s.ight, with 
fair hair and beard. Mr. Hutton and Mr. Meie(Jlth Townsend. who 
control the "Spectator," aie each ot them gentlemen of middle 
age, with the hiok of philosophers and teachers rather than men cf 
pleasure or society. Yet they both of them are to be met with in 
society. Mr. Hutton is the frienfl ot Mr. Gladstone, whom he not 
seldom entertains at dinner; while, wherever authorities on the In- 
dian empire ot England are, there is Mr. Townsend likely to be 
found in the midst of them. 



CHAPTER XII. 

ACTORS, ACTRESSES. AND ARTISTS IN SOCIETY. 

The Kendals— The Bancrofts— Theatrical hosts and hostesses— The Duke of 
Beaufort— Lord and Lady Londesborough— Lord Dunraven — Mr. and Mrs. 
George Lewis— Mr. Conwaj'^— Mr. Wilson Barrett--Mr. J. L. Toole— Mr. 
Brookfield— Mr. Hawtrey— Mr. Cecil— Mr. Henrj- Irving— Artists in society: 
their general position— Sir Frederick Leighton— Mr. Millais— Mr. Marcus 
Stone— Mr. Prinsep— Mr. Whistler— Whj^ dueling does not exist in England 
—Conclusion. 

While journalists and men of letters are content to be merged in 
the common crowd in London society, artists and actors stand forth 
from it in prominent relief. They are personages. Tliey insist on 
making themselves seen and heard. Not, indeed, qua artists and 
actors, but qua gentlemen or ladies of fashion. The odd thing ia 
that, assumimg tiie airs of people ot the highest social consideration, 
the actors are perpetually asking themselves what their position is. 
As a matter ot fact, it is, with the exception of their womankind, 
what it always was. The actress in society is a novel feature. 
Madame Christine "Nilsson, \.\xq prima-donna, visits Lady Salisbury, 
Mrs. Bancroft — Marie Wilton— visits Lady Hayler, to say nothing 
of other ladies of social distinction, peeresses by the score thrown in. 

This is exactly what might have been expected. London society 
is, in a sense, stage struck. It takes the same sort of inlrrest in 
associating with the ornaments of the stage as boys feel in making 
the acquaintance ot ballet-dancers. There is a certain prurient 
prudishness, a salacious inquisitiveness about London society. It- 
loves to hover over, or aligiit on, the borderland which separates 
conventional respectability from drownright dissoluteness, 'there 
is nothing which it so dearly loves as a soupgon ot naughtiness. I 
never see that well-kuo\\n picture of two young ladies peering into 
a volume which they have taken down from a shelf in the paternal 
library — " Forbidden Fruit," 1 think it is called— and reading in it 
tilings wiiich make them alternaiely smile and blush, without rec- 
Dgnizing the pictorial symbol, the engraved allegory of London so- 
ciety. What, to it. is the mvstery of holiness in comparison with 
the mystery ot sin? Who would not sooner contemplate the lives 
of the sinneis than the lives of the saints? London society is in- 
finitely charitable, because its curiosity knows no bounds. One of 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. Ill 

the reasons why it welcomes actresses is that it surrounds them, 
rightly or wrongly, with ii halo of antecedents and enviioument 
which leave much to the imagination. 

iNot. indeed, that m the social (lemeani)r of these ladies there is 
anything to gratify, or to premise tlie gratification, of any tastes 
which are other than puritanical in tlieir severe respectability. 
"^Vith the single exception tliat they are more demonstrative tlian 
ordinary Englishwomen, more anxous to fix attention upon them- 
selves, they nnghl be the wives of barristers or bishops. They are 
the incarnation ot everything that is orthodox in British matron- 
hood. Mrs. Kendal, one ot the best artif^ts oi her sex on tlie Lon- 
don stajre, is in private life the epitome ot all the domestic virtues 
and graces. She has a husband, himself a worthy actor, and bear- 
ing the same relation to a y;entleman of fashion as an officer in a 
Yecjmanry cavalry legiment does to an officer in tlie Blues — an his- 
toric husband, wtiom she has recently immortalized, and without 
■whom she goes nowliere. The Kendals and the Bancrofts are at 
the apex of the theatrical profession from a social point of view- 
sons at Eton, houses in fashionable quaiters, villas on tiie Thames, 
shooting-boxes in Scotland, horses, carriages, visiting lists, fine 
friends, an endless round of entertainments — whatever, in fact, 
lends distinction or respectability to life, belongs to them. 

1 here are, 1 may venture to say. not a few liouses in London so- 
ciety into the ample bosom of which any one calling herself an 
actress would be welcomed. Sometimes il happens that society is 
agitaied with misgivings as to the propiety ot takinir these ladies of 
the stage to its heart But the conscientious scruple only makes 
itself felt to be effaced— appears, to disappear. The fair player, as 
it discovers, is calumniated. She is confused with some one else, 
oddly enough, of exactly the same name, who is or was not every- 
Ihing which might be wished; or she has entirely bioken with a past 
which, if equivocal, was experienced under circumstances that make 
her rather sinned against than sinning, rather a martyr than a cul- 
prit. Other social critics there are who, if they are reproached with 
Jack of discrimination on this point, cynically ask what does it mat- 
ter, and claim for the gentlemen and ladies who delight the world 
behind the footlights an exemption from the prosaic trammels of 
the moral law. 

The actress, who ten or fifteen years ago was dancing a break- 
down on the burlesque stage, finds herself seated to-day, between 
the Premier and a prelate, at the dinner-table of a peer. The tine 
ladies who affect to be the queens of London society may shrug 
their shoulders, elevate their eyebrows, and say scornful things 
about it, but the fact remains the same. The actress in societyis 
as powerful as the best substitute which London can offer for the 
grande dame, and— which explains her popularity— she is infinitely 
more amusing. Thai is the seciet of the whole business. Just as 
there are some gentlemen belonging to the theatrical profession 
■who, when they have played to the public, go into society to sing 
songs at so much apiece, so actresses are taken into society'not pro- 
fessionally but upon an unreal footing of equality wliich makes 
them the more diverting. They comport themselves with the mien 
of women to whom imperial sway is a second nature. They are at 



113 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

home immedialely. 1 have never seen the young lady known as 
IVliss Fortesciie on the stage bui 1 have had the honor to view her 
at a discreet distance in drawing-rooms, and there could not be more 
of self-consequence in her beariuo it she were a duchess. 

ISor are the t^enllenien of the stage more timid than the ladies. 
The impression which they aim, quite unconsciously, 1 really believe, 
at producing, is that oi being officers in crack regiments, who take, 
after the habit of military exquisites, an interest in the drama. 
Sjme of them, when they are spoilt by great ladies and made to 
feel almost too much at home in big houses, acquire a habit of 
slauffiness and familiarity which, however, to their real admirers, 
teems only to add piquancy to their charnu 

The Loudon theatrical hosts and hostesses are on the increase. 
The most noticeable of the number are the Duke of Beaufort and 
Lord and Lady Londesborough, the last being the daughter of the 
first. Lord Londesborough is a tyypical specimen of the English 
swell. Tall, with tawny beard and mustache, at home in the 
theater or at theatrical suppers, in the hunting-field or on the box of 
a four- in -hand, he is good-natured and heavy, with no definite 
ideas, probably, on any subject which does not appertain tu pleas- 
ure or sport, and, as an hereditary legislator, animated by the tra- 
ditional hatred of the aristocratic "Whig for the plebi-ian Radical. 
He la never more happy tlmn when he is entertaining a select party 
of histrionic artistes of both sexes at his country seat in Hampshire, 
or driving his drag, treiglited with these same oruanienis of the 
drama, to Sandown or Epsom. He was once mistaken by an 
American visitor for a popular comedian, which he thought an ex- 
cellent joke. 

Lord Dunraven is also a warm patron of the play-house and 
of players. This nobleman has crossed the Atlantic so freqnentl}'-, 
and sojourned on the other side of it so long, that he has contracted, 
or affects to have contracted, something of the American accent. 
Seen anywhere, he would excite attention. His face, with the 
strongly defined eyebrows, the long, elaborately brushed and waxed 
mustache, the dark complexion, and the slightly sinister, though 
not unkind, expression, is suggestive alternately of a medigeval 
Mephistopheles and a modern conjurer. He has brains, knowlf ilge, 
and experience, a good talker, and can write English which is always 
grammatical and sometimes vigorous. He will long be remembered 
as their benefactor by many bright particular stars of the stage. 
He is not an ascetic, but he is loo astute to be, or ever to have been, 
a spendthrift libertine. Lord Rosebery and Lord Fife can each of 
them pose as the Maecenas of the Thespian profession, especially 
when the Prince of Wales graces the occasion by his presence. 

The English drama has no warmer patron, and the English actor 
or actress no more useful friend, than Mr. George Lewis, the emi- 
nent lawyer. But his aegis covers a far wider area than that of the 
stage. He is the oracle and aaviser of London society. There is 
scarcely any gentleman or lady whose name has been mentioned in 
these pages, who, it he or she were to become involved in any grave 
trouble oi compromising complication, w^ould not fly for aid and 
counsel to this most sagacious, acute, and amiable of English solicit- 
ors. Small wonder, then, that he is as much of an institution ia 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 113 

London society as any of its most conspicuous ornaments, or that 
his comfortable and artisticiUy arangud house is, under the presid- 
ing genius of his graceful and accomplished wife, a social center. 
Half the most delicate secrets ot the English aristocracy are locked 
up in the breast of Mr. Lewis; and if you come to gentlemen in 
business, 1 verily believe that he knows enough about ihem to send 
halt the City of London to penal servitude. He goes everywheie 
and hears everythitig. How could it be otherwise? There is no 
cause celebrc in high life, every ramification of which is not in his 
hands. 

The actors and actresses reciprocate the hospitality of their hosts 
in London society. Mr. Arthur Cecil entertains at little suppers, 
when the play is over, many ot the smart ladies of the tine world. 
!Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft give frequent dinners to their numerous 
admirers at their resiUeiif'.c in Berkeley Square. Mr. and Mrs. 
Kendal are not less fond of seeing their friends in Uailey Street. 
Mr. Wilson Barrett is famous for suppers which are banquets, and 
occasionally gives dinner parties on Sundays. 

But the most prodigal and mairniflcent of theatrical hosts is Mr. 
Henry Irving. Opinions differ as to the merits of this gentleman's 
acting. Those who appreciate and those wio condemn his art alike 
lecoguize the stamp of high intelligence impressed upon it. His 
mannerisms may be censured, but they are only the veil that never 
quite conceals a quality closely akin to genius. Whatever profession 
he might have adopted, he would have made his mark in it Much 
satire has been expended ou the attitudes, many attacks have been 
made on his pronunciation of the English language. His best and 
conclusive answer to his critics on both these grounds is that the 
public applauds him. He has won its ear, and can always count 
upon his audience. He has, too, employed successfully other ex- 
pedients in concilia' ing the multitude. His profuse expenditure has 
carried captive their imagination. His known generosity and 
munificence have made hiiu their idol. Whatever he does is done 
on a great, even a grand scale, and done without ostentation, with- 
out violating any of the laws of good taste. Whatever the enter- 
tainment he has devised for his friends is the best ot its kind. 

His figure is iuterestiuii, not, it is true, wanting in eccentricity, 
but then^not wanting in distinction cither. His manner is polished 
and gentle; his voice off the stage always agreeable, and his smile 
peculiarly winning. He is also, like Mr. Wilson Barrett, a shrewd 
and indefatigable man of business. He would never incur the re- 
motest danger of dramatic failure by inattention to any of those 
details which could promote success. The relations he has estab- 
lished betw^eeu himself and the press, and every interest or body of 
persons wiili whom he is brought into contact, are equally calculat- 
ed to help liim at any critical juncture. In general society he is 
reserved, and has been known to remind some persons ot the late 
Lord Beaconsfield. In the company ot his intimate friends his con- 
versation is sometimes exceedingly interesting, though the minute- 
ness with which he dwells upon comparatively trivial details is apt 
to be a trifle tedious. He is, 1 should think, the only living actor 
who has been selected honoris causa a member of the Athenaeum 



114 SOCIETY IN LONDON. 

Club, and probably the only actor on whom at any time a similar 
honor has been conferred by the committee ot the Refoim Club. 

There are half a dozen or a score of oilier genilemen of the stage 
frequently to be encountered in London society, such as Mr. Con- 
way, Mr. ]3rookfield, Mr. Hawtrey, and many more. Most of these 
are well favored to look upon, and much appreciated by ladiis who 
have been the architects of tlieir social tortimes. Mr. Hare, one of 
the most artistic players of character parts on the English stage, is 
altogether upon a higher level, more exclusive in his social lasites 
and engau;rmen!s, as becomes one who ha«, by the successful exer- 
cise ot his art, achieved position and opulence. He has all an En- 
glishman's love of sport, is devoted to horses, and can find enjoy- 
ment in games of chance. But, while cultivating pleasure, he may 
be trusted to avoid rashness, and, speaking generally, lam disposed 
to think that there is hnrdly any other race of men so discreet and 
thrifty, so well acquainted with tlie value of money, and so certain 
to secure a wise return for everything they expend, as the prosper- 
ous and affluent English actor ot to day. 

Mr. Toole does not belong to the set of players of the dandy order, 
and he would,. 1 suppose, excuse me tor saying that, whatever may 
have been the case once, there is tittle of the handsome young ingenu 
left about him now. Yet he is a visitor at the houses of the rich 
and great, regarded with a favorable eye, and entertained, in com- 
mon with Mr. Bancroft, Mr. Hare, Mr. Cecil, and others of his call- 
ing, by the Prince of Wales. His life has been that of a steady and 
honorable worker at his profession. He has been the cause of much 
hearty and harmless laughter in public and private to countless hun- 
dreds. Fortune has smiled upon him, and it may be questioned 
whether there is in London any one «'ho enjoys existence more. 

Some years ago Mr. Gladstone introduced the innovation of invit- 
ing the representatives of English pictorial art to the great banquets 
ot State. The practice was continued by Lord Beaeonsfield. Al- 
though artists of the stage have not, so fur as 1 know, yet received 
at the hands of English premiers exactly the same honor as the art- 
ists of the brush, Mr. Gladstone nas been at special pains to favor 
them with the marks of his attention. He is, as Europe has been 
told more than once, a statesman of universal sympathies. Years 
have passed since he made, at the house, I think, of Mrs. Thistle- 
thwayte, the acquaintance ot a veteral Boyal A.cademician, Mr. Her- 
bert. Since then his acquaintance amongst painters and players 
has rapidly widened, and to-day, if he were compelled to live in 
Bohemia, he would not need any fresh introductions. 

But although Mr. Irving, Mr. Toole, and others are aa\ong the 
guests at his Thursday breakfa^^t -table, and put in an appearance at 
Mrs. Gladstone's evening receptions, they have not, so far as 1 know, 
up to the present time been summoned to take their place at his 
biinriueting table among peers and knights of the Garter, upon State 
occasions such as her Majesty's birthday. 

Ihe artist, however, is ipore fortunate, and Sir Frederick Leigh- 
ton is bidden to these feasts in his capacity of an official personage 
of high degree. The Royal Academy of Arts, of which he is presi- 
dent, is an institution of State, and, as in England professions rise 
or fall in dignity and repute according as they are, or are not, cyn- 



SOCIKTV IN LONDON. 115 

neclcd with the Slnte, the Royal Acndemicinns and their chief have 
a social prestige in virtue of Iheir onicial status in which other iniel- 
lectual anil artistic workers do not participate. At the Royj?,^ Acad- 
emy dinner, held on the last Sutunhiy ot April, the menibets of 
the Cabinet ai)d the chiet memhers of the Govirninent. as well as 
select rt'piesentatives of the Bencli and Bar, the naval and niililary 
services, and other occupations, are en'erlained. Moreover, the 
President of the Hoval Academy is one of the favored few who can 
obtain access to the Queen wlxn he desires, lie is, therefore, not 
only an eminent painter, of course, but a public individual (if no 
common importance. These things liave conspired to raise the 
position of artists happening to be also Royal Academicians in the 
estimate of the public, and. with all charity be it said, in the esti- 
mate of tl>ems» Ives. ' 

Sir Frederick L«ighton is, in something more than the merely con- 
ventional sense, the pride and ornament of his profession. He 18 
not — how, indeed, could he be? — unconscious of tlie pomp and cir- 
cumstance wiih which he is furnished. As an ariist pure and sim- 
ple he is a great draughtsman and a fantastic color ist. His flesh 
hues were never seen upon the inhabitant of any ci>untry or cli- 
mate, ot any nationality at any period of the world's history, or 
under the iiifluetice of any light wiiatever. As a visionary glorifi- 
cation of the actual and tiie real they may he perfectly legitimate, 
but there is nothing in them evtn rtmotely allied to reality, That, 
however, is a detail, a matter \Nhich concirns Sir Frederick Leigh- 
ton and his imagination alone. It is necessary for the President of 
the Royal Academy to be not only an aitisl but a couriier, not only 
an authority in the studio but a personable figure in society, a good 
public speaker, a man of urbane address and of general information 
and culture. 

These last qualiticalions, so far as X have been able from personal 
observation to ascertain, ar-e not too common amongst painters, who 
have that peculiar vice of the English specialist and know exceed- 
ingly little about any subject to wnicli they have not devoted their 
lives. Whetlier one takes city merchants and speculators, or law- 
yers, or actors, makes no dillerence. In Paris and in other European 
capitals the gentlemen of the Bourse are politicians and diploma- 
tists, just as the diplomatists and politicians are gentlemen of ihe 
Bourse, while Ihe doctors and tlie avocat» ai-e desirous of repute as 
men of the world, and therefore neiessarily endowed with more or 
less miscellaneous knowledge. But in England the specialists 
(using this word in tiie broadest sense and indicating by it those 
who are wrapped up in the concerns nnd labors ot a single profes- 
sion) are perfectly satisfied to be in complete ignorance of whatever 
lies outside the limits of their peculiar sphere. So far from the 
British artist being an exception to this rule, he is the most conclu- 
sive illustration ot it. Once d( lach him from his pigments and 
brushes, his experiences of foreign galleries, and his sensibility to 
his rival's shortcomings, an:! he has nothing to say. lie must talk 
about his art and himself, or lie will talk about nothing. 

Sir Frederick Leighton, indeed, will discuss his art from every 
conceivable aspect by tlie hour, and is not invincibly silent upon the 
subject of himself. But then he is, besides, a scholar, a speaker, a 



116 SOCIETY IK LONDOiT. 

linguist, a maa ot business, of the world, and of apprecialion of 
and acquaintance with everything which ministers to the embellish- 
ment or the ^race ot eXislence. He would have been distinguished 
inanycareei. His more enthusiastic admirers have discovered in 
him a strong personal resemblance to Apollo, as that classic divinity 
unveils himselt to their imagination, and ii is not ditficult, as one 
looks at his elegant presence, to detect in it someihinir which is sug- 
gestive of a Greeli god in a Irock-coat. His are the hyacinthine 
locks, thinned indeed by years, butstill with something celestial in 
their flow; his that glossy hue which, as seen on his mustache or 
beard, may come from the liquid dew of Castaly or Rowland's 
Macassar oil. His voice is lute-like, and his language a mosaic of 
sentiments not so much rare in themselves, as set' in plirases which 
are miracles of the aesthetic imagination, and wliich can only be in- 
terpreted by the vulgar as enshrining thoughts too exquisitely pre- 
cious. It is not English, nor French, nor Italian, nor Spanish, nor 
Greek, which this accomplished rhetorician ponrs forth in easy 
flow. It is rather Amtrosia in syllables; it is Leightonese. 

Contrast with this finished specimen of the refinement of English 
art embodied in the human form, the painter who is probably popu- 
lar and prosperous before any of his contemporarios, Mr, John 
Everett Millais. It is, I believe, reported that Mr. Millais, bad he 
cared to press his claims, might have secured his election over Sir 
Frederick Leighton to the presidential chair of the Royal Academy. 
But, as he might himself say, " it was not in his line." Everything 
he could wish he had obtained already, fame, fortune, friends. 
Millais is an undeniably handsome man, a well-knit giant of six 
foot one, with a ruddy, open countenance, frank, hearty, with a 
ringing voice and a pealing laugh. Like Leighton he loves beauty 
and comfort, but unlike Leighton he has a native taste for sim- 
plicity; he is, although by birth a native of Jersey, a thorough En- 
glishman, ready to back his race, his countr3^ and everything char- 
acteristic of them, against the rest of the world. Imagine John Bull 
a painter, and you have Jack Millais. No more cheery optimist, or 
one who shows more conclusively the difference between honest 
pride in himself, his possessions and his works, and vanity or con- 
ceit, than Mr. Millais ever lived. Most thoroughly has he appre- 
hended the genius of the English people. Most happily does he 
reflect it on his canvases, whether they are covered with landscape 
or poitiait. 

1 never meet this superb type of artistic manhood, with his breezy, 
boisterous manner, without experiencing a sense of physical refresh- 
ment. It is as if there was wafted to nie in Pall Mali a current of 
air from those Scotch Highlands which he loves and paints so well, 
fragrant with the heather and ihe fir cones. Mr. Millais is a keen 
sportsman, and one of the reasons why he toils so incessantly dur- 
ing seven or eight months of every year is that lie may spend the 
remaining tour or five in quest of grouse and salmon. He lias a 
moor and a river on the other side of the Tweed, and these of course 
are, lil^e everything else which belongs to him, the best in the world. 
Honestly is he persuaded, and without the slightest trace of offen- 
sive conceit will he assure you, that there is no family so richly en- 



SOCIETY IK LONt)OK. 117 

dowed with the gift of personal beauty as Ids own, atid that there is 
no such house as that which he has built for himself. Ask him 
whether of the two painters he considers Millais or Gainsborough 
the greater, and he would. I am convinced, if he felt it permissible 
to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the trulh, say 
Millais. A chief amongst artiets this, and a prince among good fel- 
lows. 

Sir Frederick Leighton's most confideniial adviser and friend 
among men is Mr. Val Priiisep — universally popular, of inexhausti- 
ble kindness, and welcome in any society. A fiiuslied and most 
courteous eentleman, notwithstanding an almost uncouth appear- 
ance, and. so tar as his face is concerned, a pervading air of shag- 
gintss. Mr. Marcus Stone is, in each of these respects, Mr. Prin- 
sep's opposite— sleek, smooth- mannered, habited with extreme care, 
wonderfully well-looking, and with no more of the artist in his ap- 
pearance than is indicated by a certain picturesqueness in his tout 
ensemble. Mr, Holman Hunt and Mr. Burne Jones differ from 
p.iinters ot the stamp of Mr. Stone as much as Mr. Stone himself 
differs from Mr. Prinsep, These are not merely wielders of the 
brush; they are also priests of mighlv mysteries. Painters by pro- 
fession, they are teachers and preachers too. Art is with them a 
gospel which it is given only to a select minority of initiated vota- 
ries to understand aiight. There is a subtle symbolism in every pict- 
ure which Mr. Jones' subnuts to the public. He is taken by his 
admirers, as indeed is usually the case, at his own estimate of him- 
self. He is never to be met with in any ordinary circle of London 
society. He deigns only to reveal himself in the drawing rooms of 
a favored few, and then he expects and receives the worship due to 
a deity. 

In this he and others like him merely illustrate the besetting tend- 
ency of the brethien of the brush in England. They believe over- 
much in their own infallibility. They are jealous ot contradiction, 
contemptuous ot any outside criticism. For these reasons thej' are 
often not especially eligible as companions. To judge of art, they 
hold, one must begin by being an artist, and if that condition is not 
forthcoming, any opinion expressed must, they seem to think, be an 
impertinence. If they are members, actual or potential, of the Ro3''al 
Academy, they constitute an aggressive guild, always ready, with 
or without provocation, to assume an offensive attitude toward the 
world. If they are at feud with the Academy, and at!ect to despise 
its distinctions and its diplomas, ine area ot their supercilious spleen 
is only enlarged, and they pose as the men of genius whom their 
own generation does not understand, but for whom an immortality 
of glory is hereafter reserved. To that belief there are always 
some ladies in London society who are swift to minister. 

There is one artist wliose name may be mentioned as furnishing a 
'crucial instance of the service which social, and, above all, femi- 
nine assistance may lender in the establishment ot a professional 
reputation. Mr. Whistler is, for all 1 know to tlie contiary, an art- 
ist who has the suffrages of his brother artists, a great painter in 
the judgment of those who live by painting, but if he had not fol- 
lowed the example of Mr. Oscar Wilde his name would be com- 



118 SOCIETY IK LONDOIT. 

parative]y unknown. He had the wit to see that genius must in 
these days wear the crown ot eccentricity, even as it is the fool's cap 
which frequently conceals the fool, or rather invests him with the 
mantle ot the wise man. The opportunity came, smd he took ad- 
vantage of it. He developed a Hi tie eroup of characteristics which 
pleased the fancy and impressed themselves on the memory of so- 
ciety. First he cultivated a loc4i ot hair sprouting irom amidst his 
tresses ana fashioned after the model of a leather. Next he substi- 
tuted for a walking-stick a staff. Having thus appealed to the 
vision, he proceeded to appeal to society's sense of hearing, and, ex- 
aggerating his American uvang, invented a species of \ankee dia- 
lect hitherto unknown. In this he made it his business to utter gro- 
tesque antithetical incoherences, and to ramble on m maundering 
monotone from theme to theme, iSome clever things he contrived 
to say, for he is undoubtedly an exceedingly clever man. Concur- 
rently with this he imported a novel mode ot painting. 

The critics were divided in their opinion. Some said it was gen- 
ius, others said he was a daub. Society, being already prejudiced 
in favor of ll)e man, now welcomed the artist, and saw in every- 
thing which came at long intervals tiom his studio the transcendent 
gifis of a great oriirinal. " Our James " became the rage, because, 
in fact, society's own James. Fiom the artist he lose to the oracle. 
Having induced many gay and lively persons in London society to 
believe that he was the sole painter of the period who had the slight- 
est notion ot the rudiments of art, it occurred to him that he might 
as well explain from a public platform what these were. So he 
hired a room in Piccadilly, and announced a discourse to be deliv- 
ered at (he unusual hour of ten o clock. The bait took. It was 
whispered about in society that it would be the riglU thing to liear 
" our James." He must l)e so entertaining. 

When tlie erentful evening arrived there was not a, seat to be had 
for love or money. All the smart people were there. Some ot them 
could not hear, others could not understand. Some appreciated, 
others were simply oerplexed; but they all resolved to say that it 
was exceedingly clever; and so, whether he did or did not laugh at 
them in his sleeve, our James had his victory. If society had been 
ill-natured it might, lam disposed to think, have resented the whole 
business as an imposture, have exclaimed indignantly that it had 
been the victim ot a practical joke, and have demanded that its 
money should be returned to it at the doors. But it never entered 
into its head to do Luy one ot these things. 

Nothins is more noticeable than the intense respectability of the 
artistic society of London. In France and in other countries the 
artist is a Bohemian. In London he is the pink of fashion and the 
flower of propriety. The curious tldug is that, when a man or a 
woman distinguished in art or lileiatuie perpetrates any eccen- 
tricity, society insists upon investmg it with an air of sanclit3^ For 
instance, the English public has just been reading wiih delight the 
autobiography of an illustrious female novelist, wlio li\ert, during 
the greater part of her existence, with a man who was not her hus- 
band, edited by a man who was. Characteristically it has seen 
nothing at all odd in this. The lady had a great genius, and, there- 



SOCIETY IN LONDON. 119 

fore, what in others less gifted might have been vice, was in her 
case a form of virtue. 

1 have of'eii heard society in London compared to that society in 
Athens addressed by the Apostle Paul, whose wliole life was de- 
voted to the sceiriL^ or heariug ot some new Ihintr. But if London 
society is greeny of novelty, it can uot be charged with Ibe sin of 
inconstancy oi caprice. It is, as 1 have endeavored in these pages 
to show, credulous and simple in some respects even to a tault. It 
is also loyal to those whom it has once taken into its service, and 
who do not put off their cap and bells in its employ. It may not 
be prolound. witty or wise. But il errs, when it does err, on the 
side of charity. It will not tolerate idols placed up for its adora- 
tion by some external power, but when those idols are set up by it- 
self it. does not lightly dethrone them. If the worshipers' are 
mechanically gregarious, they are animated by an esprit de corps 
wlu'ch insures their mutual allegiance. 1 have made no attempt here 
to conceal or gloss over the faults of London society, but, after 
these have been duly allowed for, London society will remain the 
most catholic, comprehensive, tolerant, amusing, the most vast and 
varied in the world. 

One word in conclusion. Those of my readers who are English- 
fnen may be surprised that in this account ot society in London 1 
have said nothing of the duel as an institution, or ot affairs of 
konor. The explanation is that such tilings are in England practic- 
ally unknown. Twice within my recollection have two gentlemen, 
both of them officeis in the army, thought it necessary to send chal- 
lenges to triends who had bten too attentive to their wives. In 
each case a personal encounter followed, but no mischief was done, 
and the general impression of society at the time was that the bellig- 
erents had rendered themselves slightly ridiculous. Public opinion 
in London is indeed undoubtedly hostile to the duel. The late 
Piince Consort, who more than any man of his time, molded the 
taste and temper of the English people, strenuously discouraged it; 
and though the Prince of ^Vales is reported to have advoca^.ed it in 
a particular instance, and to be generally not unfriendly to the prin- 
ciple ot the duel, L see no signs of a riispositiou to adopt it. Ihis 
is to a large extent because there exist in London society social tri- 
bunals, before which there can be tried questions that in France we 
settle in the Bois de Boulogne. Club committees are in effect courts 
ot honor, and the organized public opinion of London society can 
visit any grave offense against il with penalties as severe as the bul- 
let of a pislfd or the thrust of a rapier. In France men keep their 
quarrels and scandals to themselves. They are purely personal top- 
ics, maller> in which they, and they alone, are interested. In Eng- 
land, society, being, as 1 said at the commencement of this little 
woik, more compactly and elaborately organized than in any other 
country in the world, makes such incidents its common concern. 

With these observations, I bid my readers, 1^'rench or English or 
ot whatever nationality they raay be. farewell. They vvill find, I 
believe, in these pages some truth and no ill-nature. 1 am, at least, 
not conscious of having written anything which is either imperti- 
nent or spiteful. 1 have raked up the ashes of no scandals. \ have 



120 SOCIETY IK LONDON. 

not divulged a single secret, lifted the curtain of any interior which 
ought not to be revealed, or profaned the sacred mysteries of domes- 
tic hospitality. The only sius with which 1 can be reproached are 
errors or inelegancies in literary expression. For these 1 may be 
pardoned, as ooe who, though he is now fairly habituated to the 
English tongue, is painfully alive to the fact that he has still to 
master many of its idioms and idiosyncrasies. 



THE END. 



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293 The Shadow of a Sin. By the 

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294 Hilda. By the author of " Dora 

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295 A Woman's AVar. By the author 

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296 A Rose in Thorns. By the au- 

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297 Hilary's Follv. By the author 

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298 Mitchelburst Place. By Marga- 

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299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

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300 A Gilded Sin. and A Bridge of 

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301 Dark Dav.s. By Hugh Conway. 10 

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303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

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304 In Cupid's Net. Bv the author 

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305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

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306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for a 

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307 Two Kisses, and Like No Other 

Love. By the author of "Dora 
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308 Beyond Pardon 20 

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310 The Prairie. By J. Fenimore 

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312 A Week in Killarney. By "The 

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315 The Mistletoe Bough. Edited 

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for Men and Women. By 
George IMacdonald 10 

827 Raymond's Atonement. (From 

the German of E. Werner.) 

By Christina Tyrrell 20 

838 Babiole, tiie Pretty Milliner. By 

F. Du Boistrobey. Firsst half. 20 

828 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. Bv 

F. Dn Boisgobev. Second half 20 

829 The Polish Jew. ByErckmaun- 

Cliatrian 10 

830 May Blossom ; or, Between Two 

Lioves. Bv Margaret Lee.... 20 
8S1 Gerald. By Eleanor C. Piice.. 20 
83-^ Jndltli Wynne. A Novel 20 

833 Frank Fairlegh ; or. Scenes 

from the Life of a Private 
Pupil. By Frank E. Smedley 20 

834 A Mnrriage of Convenience. By 

Harriett .iav 10 

835 The White Witch. A Novel.... 20 

836 Philistia. By Cecil Power 20 

837 Memoirs and Resolntions of 

Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
Including Some Chronicles of 
the Borough of Feudie. By 
Mrs. Oliphant 20 

838 The Family Difficulty. By Sarah 

Doudney 10 

839 Mrs. Yereker's Courier Maid. 

Bv Mrs. Alexander 10 

840 Under Which King? By Comp- 

ton Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or. The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

Bv Laura Jean Lihbey 20 

842 The Babv, and One New Year's 

Kve. By "The Duchess".... 10 
t43 The Talk of the Town. By 

James Payn £0 

844 "The Wearing of the Gi^en." 

Bv Basil 20 

845 Madam. JBy Mrs. Oliphant.... 20 

846 Tumbledown Farm. By Alan 

Muir 10 

847 As Avon Flows. By Heniy Scott 

Vince 20 

S48 From Post to Finish. A Racing 
Bomance. By Hawley Smart 20 



NO. PRICB. 

849 The Two Admirals. A Tale of 
the Sea. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 21 

350 Diana of the Crossways. By 

George Mereditli 10 

351 The House on the Moor. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

352 At Any Cost. By Edward Gar- 

rett 10 

353 The Black Dwarf, and A Leg- 

end of Monti ose. By Sir Wal- 
ter Scott 29 

354 The Lottery of Life. A Story 

of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. By John Brougham... 20 

355 That Terrible Man. By W. E. 

Norris. The Princess Dago- 
mar of Poland. By Heinrich 
Felbei-maun 10 

356 A Good Hater. By Frederick 

Boyle 20 

357 John. A Love Story. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

358 Within the Clasp. By J. Ber- 

wick Harwood 20 

359 The Wafer-Witch. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

3G0 Ropes of Sand. By R. E. Fran- 
cillon 20 

361 The Red Rover. A Tale of the 

Sea. By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 
3G2 The Bride of Lammermoor. 

By Sir Walter Scott 20 

363 The Surgeon's Daughter. By 

Sir W^alter Scott 10 

364 Castle Dangerous. By Sir Wal- 

ter Scott 10 

365 George Christy; or, The Fort- 

tines of a Minstrel. By Tony 
Pastor 20 

366 The Mysterious Hunter; or. 

The Man of Death. By Capt. 
L. C. Carleton 20 

367 Tie and Trick. By Hawley Smart 20 

368 The Southern Star ; or. The Dia- 

mond Land. Bv Jules Verne 20 

369 Miss Bretherton. By Mrs. Hum- 

phry Ward 10 

370 LucyCrofton. By Mrs. Oliphant 10 

371 Margaret Maitlaud. By Mrs. Oli- 

phant 20 

372 Phylli.s' Probation. By the au- 

thor of " His Wedded Wife ". 10 

373 Wing-and-Wing. J. Fenimore 

Cooper 9(. 

374 The Dead Man's Secret; or. The 

Adventures of a Medical Stu- 
dent. Bv Dr. Jupiter Paeon.. 20 

375 A Ride to Khiva. Bv Capt. Fred 

Burnaby, of the Royal Horse 
Guards 90 

376 The Crime of Cliristmas-Day. 

By the author of " My Duc- 
ats and Mv Daughter 10 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story 

of the Scottish Reformation. 
By Mrs. Oliphant M 



THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.-Pocket Edition. 



NO. - PRICE. 

878 Homeward Bound; or, The 

Chase. J. Fenimore Cooper.. 20 

879 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

" Homeward Bound.") By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

880 Wyandotte ; or. The Hutted 

Knoll. J. Fenimore Cooper.. 20 

881 The Red Cardinal. By Frances 

Elliot 10 

882 Three Sisters; or, Sketches of 

a Highly Original Family. 
By Elsa D'Esterre-Keeling. .. 10 

383 Introduced to Society. By Ham- 
ilton Aid6 10 

484 On Horseback Through Asia 

Minor. Capt. Fred Burnaby. 20 

885 The Headsman; or, The Abbaye 

des Vignerons. By J. Feni- 
more Cooper 20 

886 Led Astray ; or. "La Petite Comt- 

esse." By Octave Feuillet... 10 

887 The Secret of the Cliffs. By 

Charlotte French 20 

388 Addie's Husband; or, Through 
Clouds to Sunshine. By the 
author of " Love or Lands?" 10 

889 Ichabod. By Bertha Thomas... 10 

890 Mildred Trevanion. By " The 

Duchess " 10 

891 The Heart of Mid-Lothian. By 

Sir Walter Scott 20 

892 Peveril of the Peak. By Sir Wal- 

ter Scott 20 

893 The Pirate. By Sir Walter Scott 20 

894 The Bravo. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

895 The Archipelago on Fire. By 

Jules Verne 10 

896 Robert Ord's Atonement. By 

Rosa Nouchette Carey ". 20 

897 Lionel Lincoln ; or, The Leaguer 

of Boston. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

898 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan. 

By Robert Buchanan 10 

399 Miss Brown. By Vernon Lee. . 20 

400 The Wept of Wisli-Ton-Wish. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

401 Waverley. By Sir Walter Scott 20 

402 Lilliesleaf; or, Passages in the 

Life of Mrs. Margaret Malt- 
land of Sunnyside. By Mrs. 
Oliphant 20 

403 An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 

ridge 20 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories. By " The Duchess " . 10 

405 My Friends and I. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

406 The Merchant's Clerk. By Sam- 

uel Warren 10 

407 Tylney Hall. By Thomas Hood 20 

408 Lester's Secret. By Mary Cecil 

Hay 20 

409 Rov's AVife. By G. J. Whyte- 

Melville 20 

410 Old Lady Mary. By Mrs. Oli- 

phant 10 



NO. PKICK. 

411 A Bitter Atonement. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
" Dora Thome " 20 

412 Some One Else. ByB.M.Croker 20 

413 Afloat and Ashore. By J. Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

414 Miles Walliugford. (Sequel to 

" Afloat and Ashore.") By J. 
Fenimore Cooper. 20 

415 The Ways of the Hour. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

416 Jack Tier ; or. The Florida Reef. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

417 The Fair Maid of Perth ; or, St. 

Valentines Day. By Sir Wal- 
ter Scott 20 

418 St. Ronan's Well. By Sir Wal- 

ter Scott 20 

419 The Chainbearer ; or. The Little- 

page Manuscripts. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

420 Satanstoe; or, The Littlepage 

Manuscripts. By J. Fenimore 
Cooper 20 

421 The Redskins; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of The Littlepage Manu- 
scripts. J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

422 Precaution. J.Fenimore Cooper 20 

423 The Sea-Lions; or. The Lost 

Sealers. J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or. The 

Voyage to Cathay. By J. 
Fenimore Cooper 20 

425 The Oak Openings ; or, The Bee- 

Hunter. J. Fenimore Cooper. 20 

426 Venus's Doves. By Ida Ash- 

worth Taylor 20 

427 The Remarkable History of Sir 

Thomas Upmore, Bart., M.P., 
formerly known as " Tommy 
Upmore." R. D. l^lackmore. 20 

428 Z6ro: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 

By Mrs. Campbell Praed 10 

429 Boulderstone; or. New Men and 

Old Populations. By Wiliam 
Sime 10 

430 A Bitter Reckoning. By the 

author of "By Crooked Paths" 10 

431 The Monikins. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

433 The Witch's Head. By H. Rider 

Haggard 20 

433 My Sister Kate. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of " Dora 
Thorne," and A Rainy June. 
By "Oiiida" 10 

434 Wvllard's Weird. By Miss M. 

E.-Braddon 20 

435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. By George Taylor.... 20 

436 Stella. By Fanny Lewald 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. Bv Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 
Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 20 



THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.-Pocket Edition. 



NO. I'RICK. 

438 Found Out. Helen B. Mathers. 10 

439 (^reat E.xpectations. By Clias. 

Dickeus iJO 

440 BIrs. Lirriper's Lodgiugs. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

441 A Sea Change. By Flora L. 

Shaw 20 

442 Rauthorpe, B3' George Henry 

Lewes 20 

448 The Bachelor of The Albany. . . 10 

444 The Heart of Jane Warner. By 

Florence 3Iarryat 20 

445 The Shadow of a Crime. By 

Hall Caine 20 

446 Dame Durden. By '* Rita ". . . . 20 

447 American Notes. By Charles 

Dickeus 20 

448 Pictures From Italy, and The 

JIudfog Papers, &c. By Chas. 

Dickens 20 

440 Peeress and Player. By Flor- 
ence ]\Ia,rryat 20 

450 Godfrey Helstone, Bj'Georgiana 

M. Craik 20 

451 Market Harborough, and Inside 

the Bar. By G. J. Whyte- 
Melville 20 

452 In the West Countrie. By May 

Crommelin 20 

45ii The Lottery Ticket. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

454 The BIystery of Edwin Drood. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

455 Lazarus in London. By F. W. 

Robin.son 20 

456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative of 

Every-day Life and Every-day 
People. By Charles Dickens. 20 

457 The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat. Bv Charles Marvin. .. 10 

458 A Week of Passion : or. The Di- 

lemma of Mr. George Barton 
the Younger. By Edward Jen- 
kins 20 

459 A Woman's Temptation. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of "DoraThorne^' 20 

460 Under a Shadow. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, authot* of " Dora 
Thome" 20 

461 His Wedded Wife. By author 

of '* Ladybirds Penitence ".. 20 
402 Alice's Adv'^ntures in Wonder- 
land. By Lewis Carroll. With 
forty-two illustrations by 

John Tenniel 20 

463 Redgauntlet. By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 



NO. PRICE. 

465 Tlie Earl's Atonement. By Char- 

lotte 31. Braeme, author of 
" Dora Thorne " 20 

466 Between Two Loves. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
"Dora Thorne" 20 

467 A Struggle for a Ring. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
" Dora Thorne " 20 

468 The Fortunes, (iood and Bad, 

of a Sewing-Girl. By Char- 
lotte M. Stanley 10 

469 Lady Damer's Secret. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
•' Dora Thorne " 20 

470 Evelyn's Folly. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of " Dora 
Thorne" 20 

471 Thrown on the World. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
" Dora Thorne " 20 

472 The AVise "Women of Inverness. 

Fv William Black 10 

473 A Lost Son. By Mary Linskill. 10 

474 Serapis. Au Historical Novel. 

By George Ebers 20 

475 The Prima Donna's Husband. 

By F. Du Boisgobey 20 

476 Between Two Sins. By Char- 

lotte 31. Braeme, author of 
"Dora Thorne " 10 

477 Affinities. A Romance of To- 

day. By Mrs. Campbell Praed. 10 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody's Daughter 

ByMissM.E. Braddon. PartL 20 
478 Diavola; or. Nobody's Daughter 

ByMissM.E. Braddon. Part II. 20 
179 Louisa. By Katharine S. Mac- 

quoid 20 

480 Married in Haste. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

481 The House that Jack Built. By 

Alison 10 

482 A Vag^•ant "SVife. Bv F. Warden 20 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 

the author of "A Golden Bar" 10 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 

Other Tales. Mrs. Forrester. 10 

485 Tinted Vapours. ByJ. Maclaren 

Cobban 10 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

490 A Second Life. By Mrs. Alex- 

ander 20 

491 Society in London. By A For- 

eign Resident 10 



The Hew York Fashion Bazar Book of the Toilet. 

A Complete Guide and Manual to All the ArtH and 8eeret8 of Personal Beauty 
and Charm. 

Containing Rules for the Promotion and Preservation of Beauty, 

How to Acquire and Preserve a Peautlful Complexion, The Care of the Skin, The 

Growth and .Management of the Hair, etc. 

PKUE '2o CENTS. 

GEOKGE MFNltO, Publisher, 

P. O. Box 8751. 17 to 27 Vaudewater Street, New York. 



THE NEW YORK 



FASIIOI BAZAI BOOK OF THE TOILET. 



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GEORGE MUNRO, Publisher, 

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WE CAN RECOMMEND TO EVERY LADY 

FOR THE 

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IT CONTAINS FULL DIRECTIONS FOR ALL THE 

ARTS AND MYSTERIES OF PERSONAL DECORATION, 

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Increasing the Natural Graces of Form and Expression. 

ALL THE LITTLE AFFECTIONS OF THE 

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Ladles Are Instructed How to Reduce Their Weight 

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JUST ISSUED. 



JULIET COUSON'S 

NEW FAMILY COOK BOOK. 

BY MISS JULIET CORSON, 

Author of "Meals for the Million," etc., etc. 
Teacher of Cooking at the New York Cooking School. 



Price: Paper Edition, 50 cents ; Handsomely Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 



A COMPLETE COOK BOOK 

For Family Use in City and Country. 

CONTAINING 

PRACTICAL RECIPES AND FULL AND PLAIN DIREC- 
TIONS FOR COOKING ALL DISHES USED 
IN AjVIERICAN HOUSEHOLDS. 

The Best and Most Econoinical Methods of Cookingr Meats, Fish, 
VeKetables, Sauces, Salads, Puddiugs and Pies. 

How to Prepare Relislies and Savory Accessories, Picked-up Dishes, 
Soups, Seasoning, Stuffing and Stews. 

How to Make Good Bread, Biscuit, Omelets, Jellies, Jams, Pan- 
cakes, Fritters and Fillets. 



Miss Corson is the best American writer on cooking. All of her recipes 
have been carefully tested in the New York Cooking School. If her directions 
are carefully followed there will be no failures and no reason for complaint. 
Her directions are alwaj's plain, very complete, and easily followed. 

Juliet Corson's New Family Cook Book 

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OLD SLEUTH LIBRARY. 

A Series of tlie Most Thrilling Detective Stories Ever Publlslied! 



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No. 1. OLD SliEUTH THE DETECTIVE. 

A dashing romance, detailing in graphic style the hair-breadth escapes and 
thriUing adventures of a veteran agent of the law. 

No. 'Z. THE KING OF THE DETECTIVES. 

In this story the shrewdness and cunning of a master mind are delineated 
in a fascinating manner. 

No. 3. OLD SLEUTH'S TRIUMPH. 

IN TWO HALVES— 10 CENTS EACH. 

The crowning triumph of the great detective's active career is reached after 
undergoing many exciting perils and dangers. 

No. 4. UNDER A MILLION DISGUISES. 

The many subterfuges by which a detective tracks his game to justice are 
all described in a graphic manner in this great story. 

No. 5. NIGHT SCENES IN NEW YORK. 

An absorbing story of life after dark in the great metropolis. All the 
various features of metropolitan life— the places of amusement, high 
and low life among *he night-hawks of Gotham, etc., are realistically 
described in this delightful story. 

No. 6.-OLD ELECTRICITY, THE LIGHTNING DETECTIVE. 

For ingenuity of plot, quick and exciting succession of dramatic incidents, 
this great story has not an equal in the whole range of detective literature. 

No. y.-THE SHADOW DETECTIVE. 

This thrilling story is a masterpiece of entrancing fiction. The wonderful 
exploits and hair-breadth escapes of a clever law-agent are all described 
in brilliant style. 

No. 8.-RED LIGHT WILL, THE RIVER DETECTIVE. 

In this splendid romance, lovers of the weird, exciting phases of life on tht 
teeming docks and wharfs of a great city, will find a mine of thrilling- 
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No. 9.-IRON BURGESS, THE GOVERNMENT DETECTIVE. 

The many sensational incidents of a detective's life in chasing to cover the 
sharks who prey upon the revenue of the Government are ail described in 
a fascinating manner. The story will hold the reader spell-bound w*^ in- 
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MUNRO'S PUBLICATIONS. 



THE SEASIDE LIBRARY 



ORI>I]^ARY TUITION. 



GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 
(P.O.Box 3751.) 17 to 27 Vande^water Street, N. Y, 



The following works contained in The Seaside Library, Ordinary Editiott, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, on 
receipt of 12 cents for single numbers, and 25 cents for double numbers, by th-* 
pmblisher. Parties ordering by mail will please order by numbers. 



MRS. ALEXANDER'S WORKS. 

30 Her Dearest Foe 90 

36 The Wooing O't 20 

46 The Heritage of Langdale 20 

370 Ralph Wilfon's Weird 10 

400 Which Shall it Be? 20 

533 Maid, Wife, or Widow 10 

1281 The Freres 20 

1259 Valerie's Fate 10 

1391 Look Before You Leap 20 

1502 The Australian Aunt 10 

1595 The Admiral's Ward n 

1721 The Executor 90 

1934 iMre. Vei-eker's Courier Maid 10 

WILLIAM BLACK'S WORKS. 

13 A Princess of Thule 20 

28 A Daughter of Heth 10 

47 In Silk Attire 10 

48 Tlie Strange Adventures of a Phaeton 10 

51 Kilmeny 10 



THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Ordina/ry Edition. 

53 The Monarch of Mincing Lane 10 

79 Madcap Violet (small type) 10 

604 Madcap Violet (large type) 20 

243 The Three Feathers 10 

890 The Marriage of Moira Fergus, and The Maid of Killeena. 10 

417 Macleod of Dare 36 

451 Lady Silverdale's Sweetheart 10 

568 Green Pastures and Piccadilly 10 

816 White Wings: A Yachting Romance 10 

836 Oliver Goldsmith , 10 

950 Sunrise: A Story of These Times 30 

1035 The Pupil of Aurelius 10 

1033 That Beautiful Wretch 10 

1161 The Four MacNicols 10 

1364 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., in the Highlands 10 

1439 An Adventure in Thule. A Story for Young People 10 

1556 Shandon Bells '. 20 

1683 Yolande 20 

1893 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love Affairs and other Advent- 
ures 20 

MISS M. E. BRA^DDON'S WORKS. 

26 Aurora Floyd 20 

69 To the Bitter End 30 

89 The Lovels of Arden 20 

95 Dead Men's Shoes 20 

109 Eleanor's Victory 20 

114 Darrell Markham 10 

140 The Lady Lisle 10 

171 Hostages to Fortune 20 

190 Henry Dunbar 20 

215 Birds of Prey 20 

235 An Open Verdict 20 

251 Lady Audley's Secret 20 

254 The Octoroon 10 

260 Charlotte's Inheritance 20 

287 Leighton Grange 10 

295 Lost for Love 20 

833 Dead-Sea Fruit 30 

459 The Doctor's Wife 30 

469 Rupert Godwin 30 



TEE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Ch^dinary Edition. 

481 Vixen 20 

482 The Cloven Foot 20 

500 Joshua Haggard's Daughter 20 

519 Weavers and Weft 10 

525 Sir Jasper's Tenant 20 

539 A Strange World 20 

550 Fenton's Quest 20 

662 John Marchmont's Legacy 20 

672 The Lady's ^lile 20 

679 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

581 Only a Woman (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddoo) 20 

619 Taken at the Flood 20 

641 Only a Clod 20 

649 Publicans and Sinners 20 

656 George Caulfield's Journey 10 

665 The Shadow in the Corner 10 

666 Bound to John Company; or, Robert Ainsleigh 20 

701 Barbara ; or, Splendid Misery 20 

705 Put to the Test (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddoc) 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody's Daughter. Part I ^t 

734 Diavola; or. Nobody's Daughter. Part II 20 

811 Dudley Carleon 10 

828 The Fatal Marriage 10 

837 Just as I Am; or, A Living Lie 20 

942 Asphodel 20 

1154 The Mistletoe Bough 20 

1265 Mount Royal 20 

1469 Flower and Weed 10 

1553 The Golden Calf 20 

1638 A Hasty Marriage (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

1715 Phantom Fortune 20 

1736 Under the Red Flag 10 

1877 An Ishmaelite >0 

1915 The Mistletoe Bough. Christmas, 1884 (Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon) 2# 

CHARLOTTE, EMILY, AND ANNE BRONTE'S WORKS. 

S Jane Eyre (in small type) 10 

896 Jane Eyre (in bold, handsome type) 20 

162 Shirley 20 

811 The Professor 10 



THE SEASIDE LIBRABT— Ordinary Edition. 

329 Wuthering Heights 10 

438 Villette 20 

967 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall , 20 

1098 Agnes Grey 20 

LUCY RANDALL COMFORT'S WORKS, 

495 Claire's Love-Life 10 

552 Love at Saratoga 20 

672 Eve, The Factory Girl 20 

716 Black Bell 20 

854 Corisande 20 

907 Three Sewing Girls. „ 20 

1019 His First Love 20 

1133 Nina; or, The Mystery of Love 20 

1192 Vendetta ; or, The Southern Heiress 20 

1254 Wild and Wilful 20 

1533 Elfrida; or, A Young Girl's Love-Story 20 

1709 Love and Jealousy (illustrated) 20 

1810 Married for Money (illustrated ) 20 

1829 Only Mattie Garland 20 

1830 Lottie and Victorine; or, Working their Own Way 20 

1834 Jewel, the Heiress. A Girl's Love Story 20 

1861 Love at Long Branch; or, Inez Merivale's Fortunes 20 

WILKIE COLLINS' WORKS. 

10 The Woman in White 2G 

14 The Dead Secret 20 

22 Man and Wife 20 

32 The Queen of Hearts 20 

38 Antonina 20 

42 Hide-and-Seek 20 

76 The New Magdalen 10 

94 The Law and The Lady 20 

180 Armadale 20 

191 My Lady's Money 10 

225 The Two Destinies 10 

250 No Name 20 

286 After Dark 10 

409 The Haunted Hotel 10 

433 A Shocking Story 10 

487 A Rogue's Life 10 



THE SEASIDE LIBnARY.— Ordinary Edition. 

551 The Yellow Mask 10 

583 Fallen Leaves 20 

654 Poor Miss Finch 20 

675 The Moonstone 20 

696 Jezebel's Daughter 20 

713 The Captain's Last Love 10 

721 Basil 20 

745 The Magic Spectacles 10 

905 Duel in Ilerue Wood 10 

928 Wiio Killed Zebedee? 10 

971 The Frozen Deep 10 

990 The Black Robe 20 

1164 Your Money or Your Life 10 

1544 Heart and Science. A Story of the Present Time 20 

1770 Love's Random Shot 10 

1856 "I Say No" 20 

J. FENIMORE COOPER'S WORKS. 

222 Last of the 3Iohicans 20 

224 The Deerslayer , 20 

226 The Pathfinder 20 

229 The Pioneers 20 

231 The Prairie 20 

233 The Pilot 20 

585 The Water- Witch 20 

590 The Two Admirals 20 

615 The Red Rover 20 

761 Wing-and-Wing 20 

940 The Spy 20 

1066 The Wyandotte 20 

1257 Afloat and Ashore 20 

1262 Miles Wallingford (Sequel to "Afloat and Ashore") 20 

1569 The Headsman; or, The Abbaye des Vignerons 20 

1605 TheMonikins 20 

1661 The Heidenmauer; or, The Benedictines. A Legend of 

the Rhine 20 

1091 The Crater; or, Vulcan's Peak. A Tale of the Pacific 20 

CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. 

20 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

100 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

102 Hard Times 10 



TEE SEASIDE LlBBART.—Ordina/ry Edition. 

118 Great Expectations 20 

187 Duvid Copperfield. 20 

200 Nicholas Nickleby 20 

213 Baraaby Rudge 20 

218 Dombey and Son 20 

239 No Thoroughfare (Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins) 10 

247 Martin Chu»zlewit. 20 

272 The- Ciicket on the Hearth. 10 

284 Oliver Twist. 20 

289 A Christmas Carol. 10 

297 The Haunted Man.... 10 

304 Little Dorrit 20 

308 The Cbiraes. 10 

317 The Battle of Life 10 

325 Our Mutual Friend 20 

337 Bleak House 20 

352 Pickwick Papers 20 

359 Somebody's Luggage. 10 

367 Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings. 10 

372 Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices 10 

375 Mugby Junction. 10 

403 Tom Tiddler's Ground 10 

498 The Uncommercial Traveler .. .. .. 20 

521 Master Humphrey's Clock 10 

625 Sketches by Boz 20 

639 Sketches of Young Couples 10 

827 The Mudfog Papers, &c. 10 

860 The Mystery of Edwin Drood 20 

900 Pictures From Italy 10 

1411 A Child's History of England 20 

1464 The Picnic Papers 20 

1558 Three Detective Anecdotes, and Other Sketches 10 

WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF "DORA THORNE." 

449 More Bitter than Death 10 

618 Madolin's Lover 20 

656 A Golden Dawn ; 10 

678 A Dead Heart '. 10 

718 Lord Lynne's Choice; or, True Love Never Runs Smooth. 10 

746 Which Loved Him Best 20 

846 Dora Thome 20 

n\ At War with Herself 10 



TKE b3 ASIDE LUSnAHr.- uratna/ry mtdnon. 

•81 The Sin of a Lifetime SJ^ 

1013 Lady Gwendoiloe's Dream .„ , 10 

101b Wif^in NtirneOuly o...... M 

1044 Like No Otntr Love ,....,.„... ,., 10 

lOdO A Woman's War o 10 

1072 Hilary's Folly ,.., ,, » 10 

1074 A Queen Amongst Women ,..o .o....... 10 

1077 AGilded Sin .c....o ., 16 

1081 A Bridge of Love.. c..,..., o.. 10 

1085 The Fatal Lilies , ,.o.....o. 16 

1099 Wedded and Parted „ „ .,, 10 

1107 A Bride From the bea. .,.,..,....,. , ., . 10 

1110 A Hose in Thorns » ........ ...o.o..e..o .. c 10 

1115 The Shfidowof a &m.... ,.,... C...O, .0.0.0 c ....o« 10 

1122 Redeemed by Love ..., ..o ,o, 10 

112G The Story of a Wedding-Ricg.o...o o. . . o...., . 10 

1127 Love's Warfare o o..o ,.. 20 

1132 Repented at Leisure c. .» .... ., .. .. , 20 

1179 From Gloom to Sunlight.. , .c.o..... 20 

1209 Hilda .o .o.., 30 

1218 A Goldeu Heart o,. »....,.. o.o 20 

1266 Ingledew House , ..o. ., .. ....o... 10 

1288 A Broken Wedding-King.... c... ....... o.o ,.c, . 20 

1305 Love For a Day; or, Under the Lilaca.. ,...,..,.... .,,. .. 10 

1357 Toe Wife's Secret ...o..., ,. 10 

1393 Two Kisses ...o... ,oo o...,. 10 

1460 Between Two Sins...,..., , 10 

1640 The Cost of Her Love ,....o 90 

1664 Romance of a Black Veil ,....o < 90 

1704 Her Mother's Sin ,.o,., ,,...... „ 20 

1761 Thorns and Orange Blossoms. oo.coc»= 20 

1844 Fair but False, and The Heiress of Arae ... o, .. c. .. .... ,= 10 

1883 Sunshine and Roses ., ....o.oc, , . . 20 

1»0« In Cupid's Net ....oo oo... 10 

ALEXANDER DUMAS' WORKS. 

144 TheTv7in Lieutenants.,.. .o...... 10 

151 The Russian Gipsy 10 

155 The Count of Monte Cri.to^iAwi'pfefe m One Volume) 90 

180 TheBlack Tulip ...„ ,. 10 

107 The Queen's Necklt« , 90 



TEE SEASIDE LIBEART'- Ordinary miUon, 

172 The Chevalier de Maison Rouge M 

184 The Countess de Charny 29 

188 Nanon , 10 

193 Joseph Balsarao ; or, Memoirs of a Physician 20 

194 The Conspirators o. 10 

198 Isabel of Bavaria 10 

201 Catherine Blum 10 

233 Beau Tancrede; or, The Marriage Verdict (small type) 10 

997 Beau Tancrede; or. The Marriage Verdict (large type) 20 

228 The Regent's Daughter 10 

244 The Three Guardsmen 20 

268 The Forty-five Guardsmen 20 

276 The Page of the Duke of Savoy 10 

278 Six Years Later ; or, Taking the Bastile 80 

283 Twenty Years After 20 

298 Captain Paul 10 

306 Three Strong Men 10 

318 Ingenue 10 

331 Adventures of a Marquis. First half 20 

331 Adventures of a Marquis. Second half 20 

342 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. I. (small type) 10 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. I. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. II. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. III. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. IV. (large type) 20 

844 Ascanio 10 

608 The Watclmiaker ...o 20 

616 ThbTwo Dianas... *. 2€ 

622 Andree de Taveruey 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (1st Series) 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (3d Series) 20 

364 Vicomte de Bragelonne (3d Series) 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (4th Series) 20 

688 Chicot, the Jester 20 

849 Doctor Basilius 20 

1452 Salvator: Being the continuation and conclusion of "The 

Mohicans of Paris." Vol. 1 20 

1452 Salvator: Being the continuation and conclusion of "The 

Mohicans of Paris." Vol. II 20 

1453 Salvator: Being the continuation and conclusion of " The 

Mohicans of Paris." Vol. III. 2% 



THE SEASIDE LTBRART.— Ordinary EditCon. 

1452 Salvator: Being the continuation and conclusion of "The 

Mohicans of Paris." Vol. IV 30 

1453 Salvator: Being the continuation and conclusion of "The 

MohicaLs of Paris." Vol. V 30 

1561 The Corsican Brothers 10 

1593 Marguerite de Valois. An Historical Romance 30 

F. DU BOISGOBEY'S WORKS. 

709 Old Age of Monsieur Lecoq. Part I. . . ; 20 

709 Old Age of Monsieur Lecoq. Part II 20 

1063 The Severed Hand (La Main Coupee) 30 

1123 The Crime of the Opera House. First half 30 

1123 The Crime of the Opera House. Second half 30 

1143 The Golden Tress 30 

1335 The Mystery of an Omnibus 30 

1341 The Matapan Affair. First half , . 30 

1341 The Matapan Affair. Second half 30 

1307 The Robbery of the Orphans ; or, Jean Tourniol's Inherit- 
ance 20 

1356 The Golden Pig (Le Cochon d'Or). Part 1 20 

1356 The Golden Pig. Part II 20 

1433 His Great Revenge. First half 20 

1432 His Great Revenge. Second half 20 

1465 The Privateersman's Legacy. First half. ... 20 

1465 The Privateersman's Legacy. Second half 20 

/481 The Ferry-boat (Le Bac) 20 

1534 Satan's Coach (L'Equipage du Diable). First half 20 

1534 Satan's Coach (L'Equipage du Diable). Second half 20 

1550 The Ace of Hearts (L'As de Coeur). First half 30 

1550 The Ace of Hearts (L'As de Coeur). Second half SO 

1603 Marie-Rose ; or, The Mystery. First half 20 

1602 Marie- Rose ; or, The Mystery. Second half 20 

1717 Sealed Lips 20 

1742 The Coral Pin 30 

1793 Chevalier Casse-Cou. First half 30 

1793 Chevalier Casse-Cou. Second hilf 30 

1799 The Steel Necklace 20 

1800 Bertha's Secret. First half 30 

1800 Bertha's Secret. Second half 30 

1841 Menndol 20 

1843 The Iron Mask. Fkst half. 30 



TEE SEASIDE LIBRAE F.— Ordinary Editkm, 

470 The Fortunes of Glencore 21 

529 Lord Kilgobbiu 2Q 

546 Maurice Tiernay. 20 

566 A Day's Ride. c = 20 

609 Barrington , 20 

633 Sir Jasper Carew, Kniglit , 20 

657 Tiie Martins of Cro' Martin. Part 1 26 

657 Tlie Martins of Cro' Martin. Part II , . . 2« 

822 Tony Butler = . . , 20 

872 Luttrell of Arran, Part I ..20 

872 Luttrell of Arran. Part II 20 

951 Paul Gosslett's Confessions , . 10 

965 One of Them. First half 20 

965 One of Them. Second half 20 

989 Sir Brook Fossbrooke. Part 1 20 

989 Sir Brook Fossbrooke. Part II , 20 

1235 The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly , 20 

1309 The Dodd Family Abroad. First half 20 

1309 The Dodd Family Abroad. Second half , 20 

1342 Horace Templeton 20 

1394 Roland Cashel. First half , . . . . 20 

1394 Roland Cashel. Second half 20 

1496 The Daltons; or, Three Roads in Life. First half 20 

1496 The Daltons; or, Three Roads in Life. Second half 20 

GEORGE MACDONALD'S WORKS. 

455 Paul Faber, Surgeon , 20 

491 Sir Gibbie 20 

595 The Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood 20 

606 The Seaboard Parish 20 

627 Thomas Wingfold, Curate .20 

643 The Vicar's Daughter .,.,,, 20 

668 David Elginbrod 20 

677 St. George and St. Michael , . 20 

790 Alec Forbes of Howglen 20 

887 Malcolm 20 

922 Mary Marston 20 

938 Guild Court. A London Story 20 

948 The Marquis of Lossie 20 

962 Robert Falconer 20 

1375 Castle Warlock : A Homely Romance . 20 



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Among its regular contributors are Mary Cecil Hay, " The Duchess," author 
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THE SEASIDE LIBRAS 

CLOTH EDITION.. 

HANDSOMELY BOUIS^ 

CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. 



OHvcr Twist I 

Martin Chuzzlcwit 

The Old Curiosity Shop 

1>avld Copperfield 

Dombey and Son 

Nicholas Niekleby 

Pickwick Papers 

Bleak House 

Little Dorrlt ■ 

Barnaby Rudsre ' 

ATale of Two Cities 

Our Mutual Friend 

Great Expectations 

Christmas Stories 

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Ex 
tra larjre type. By Lewis Carroll 
With forty-two Illustrations by Johi 
Tennlel 

An;^ of th.> nbove works will be sent by mall, pot i 
on reerlpt of the price. Address 

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